All I want for Christmas is You
by HDorothy
Summary: AU:S7, S8 There’s an old saying, “Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me.” Well our favorite couple, Jack and Sam are about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, SJ Shippers
1. Chapter 1

Title: All I want for Christmas is You  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8, S10  
Characters: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Well our favorite couple is about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn!  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: On my knees begging!

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**Nine months prior:**

The banner hanging over the stage of the dance hall read:

**HAPPY 50th ANNIVERSARY HARRY AND MARY!**

Jack smiled at the wedded couple of fifty years. So cool to see his former neighbors had made it this long. Most couples now-a-days didn't last five years let alone fifty. He'd always hoped to spend fifty years with the same woman, but at his age that'd put him around a hundred. Well, longevity did reign in the O'Neill genetic tide pool. However, he humbly long accepted that he'd grow old with his fishing pole at the cabin—alone.

Watching his friends sway close together on the dance floor, Jack wondered what they were saying. Probably lots of, "Remember when," lines or more importantly, "I love you, snookem's."

As if on cue, the orchestra played the country western song, '_Remember When.'_ The darn sentimental fool that he was, Jack felt his throat clog. Damn, he hated when that happened, let alone with witnesses. He and Sam had been together what, almost eight years? Stop this, O'Neill! A working relationship isn't a marriage, far from it. And yet, they'd spent more time together than most spouses. How did one describe their relationship? Teammates? Good friends? Friends without bennies? Wannabe lovers?

_If wishes were horses, old man!_ Curse Carter for leaving it in the room. No! That was his fault. He should have insisted they discuss it that very day. And then he did the dumbest thing, he told her to get a life. What in Ne'tu had he been thinking?

Discouraged, Jack sat down and nursed his champagne. As warped as it sounded he still loved Samantha Carter. He loved her like he'd never loved any woman before in his entire life, even Sara. This time he'd loved unselfishly. He'd given all and tried not to take. Because when she gave of herself which for Carter was a constant, he thought himself the richest fool in the universe.

It'd taken seven years for Jack to realize he was close to losing the most important person in his life. Samantha Carter. Last week, he'd spoken off record with General Hammond.

The '_man'_ told Jack, "Son, it's about time you got your head out of your rear-end regarding Samantha. But . . ." Jack hated butts. "Could you wait until we find Atlantis so we can destroy the Goa'uld for once and for all?"

Per usual Jack put duty before love and begrudgingly agreed. That's why he was working his and SG-1's asses off to locate the long lost city of the Ancients. All Jack could say was that Daniel had better be right about the city's existence or Daniel would find himself buried with his mummies.

Jack took another swig of warm champagne and decided he'd not wallow in regrets with an audience. He'd shown up, eaten a delicious meal, and toasted the lovely couple twice. Now it was time to head home and drink solo. He started across the dance floor to say goodbye to his friends when something quite odd distracted him. A younger couple danced slowly in place with eyes only for each other.

Doggone, a Samantha Carter look-a-like dancing with a short guy with a lantern jaw and receding blond hairline. Jack blinked and looked again. Holy buckets, it was his Sam! What was she doing here? What were the odds that she knew the Baxters? Decked out in black high heels Sam towered over her dance partner. At first Jack thought he was a relative. Mark? Nope, Mark was taller than Sam. Then Jack remembered that Mark had set her up with some cop named, um? Dang, he couldn't remember. Pedro, Peppy, Petra? The guy's last name totally eluded him.

Jack's gaze fixated on Carter. His jaw slackened. He had never seen her dressed so provocatively. Her golden hair was swept up on her head. She wore makeup, jewelry, and a stunning red dress with a plunging back and enough cleavage to cause Jack lower discomfort, not to mention a dry mouth. And those long curvy legs went on forever. She was hot! So was he.

Jack watched her date's hands roam lower than Sam's waist. The leech! Jack saw red. He also had a major reality check and hurried for the bathroom. Once inside he found an empty stall, entered and tossed his meal and the champagne. Still shaking he sat on the toilet seat and tried to get a grip. Well, she said she was dating someone. She said it wasn't serious. Wrong!

Still shaking but less nauseous, Jack left the stall and managed to reach the sink. He splashed cold water on his face and then patted dry with paper toweling. Jack looked in the mirror and saw a gray-haired man with a road map for a face and one scarred eyebrow. He looked like he'd been through the ringer. He had. He looked over fifty. Wait, he was over fifty. What had he been thinking? Him married to Sam? She'd have to be nuts to still love him. Well, they'd never actually admitted to being in love with each other. Caring, yes. Loving, not.

"You're such an ass!" He accused the man in the mirror. "Time to grow up. You lost Sara and now you've lost someone you never ever had. Samantha."

The bathroom door swung ajar. The short, lantern-jawed, balding blond guy strutted toward him like a peacock. Upon closer observation Jack realize he wasn't more than thirty-five, which made him younger than Sam. Crap, Jack hoped she hadn't spotted him. To his relief the man hurried toward the urinals. Jack decided to check him out. Standing in the next stall, he unzipped and did his business.

The other man smiled and whistled to himself. Jack discreetly took a peek. Dang, he was bigger than Jack assumed. Lantern Jaw caught Jack in the act. Jack blushed and hoped the kid didn't think him gay. To his surprise, Lantern Jaw looked down at Jack's equipment and whistled approval.

"Looks like we're both outfitted to make the ladies happy, huh?"

Jack coughed and zipped up. His repartee of one-liners failed him, so he walked to a sink and washed his hands vigorously.

Lantern Jaw didn't seem offended by Jack's silence. "I'm going to get lucky tonight and it's about time."

"Do tell?" Jack engaged locker room talk.

"Yep. Been chasing this hot blond for almost three months. She's not just nice, she's a good girl. Doesn't sleep around. The type of girl a fellow wants to marry. And I finally found her weak link."

"Don't keep me in suspense?" Jack coaxed with a shifty smile.

"Well," his voice lowered and he grinned like a high school kid. "She's a diehard romantic, loves Gene Kelly movies and that stupid _Wizard of Oz_ flick. She actually quotes the dialogue and has a thing for the brainless scarecrow."

"Weird." Jack commented, smiling to himself.

"You're telling me. But then she's a genius scientist in the Air Force, something to do with deep space telemetry. Never liked the military but she's an exception." He sighed."And built like . . ." He made a crude gesture and winked.

Jack cracked his knuckles. He wanted to plant his fist down the wolf's throat.

"Anyways, ya'll know once you see her."

"I'm sure." He winced.

Lantern Jaw's over zealous smile evaporated. "Unfortunately, she's got a crush on her boss. Of course, she'd never admit it even to me, because they're military. But she talks about him nonstop. Colonel O'Neill this, Colonel O'Neill that. Heck, you'd think he'd saved the world or something."

Jack choked and gripped the edge of the counter.

"Hey, you okay, old man?"

"Just peachy, son." Jack cleared his throat. "Um, you were saying." Jack encouraged him to dig himself a deep hole, because Jack had every intention to bury him.

"She needs a good man that she can depend upon. A safe bet. And I'm him." He punctuated by poking his chest.

"You don't say." Jack looked Lantern Jaw over and smothered a laugh. "Would her name per chance be Major Samantha Carter?"

Lantern Jaw choked.

"Hey, you alright?" Jack slugged him between the shoulders harder than necessary.

"Yeah." He caught his breath and backed off, arching his sore shoulders. "How'd you know?"

"Because." Jack turned to the dark side, and got in the shorter man's face. "I'm her boss, Colonel O'Neill."

"Shit!"

"Limited vocabulary huh?" Jack snatched the man by the shoulders and lifted him easily off the tile floor. "Take the advice of this _old man_ who cares about her. You treat Carter with the utmost respect! And if you ever harm her emotionally, mentally or physically, you'll have to dig your balding, blond head out of your lily white ass. Understood?"

"Yesss sir!" He gulped.

"Fine." Jack set Lantern Jaw on his feet then brushed his own hands as if they'd been soiled. Walking toward the door, Jack addressed the shaken man. "One more thing, son, you don't tell Carter about our conversation."

"Or what?" Lantern Jaw had recovered his courage.

"You'll be singing soprano." Jack left and headed for the back door.

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"Colonel?"

Ah, crap! Jack picked up his pace, but a familiar hand clutched his upper right arm. Resigning himself, Jack turned to find Sam looking beautiful as ever and dumbstruck by his presence.

"What are you doing here, sir?" It was an innocent, non-threatening, non-accusing request, but he felt culpable. Perhaps, because Jack had just threatened to shove her boyfriend's head up his rectum.

"I, um, the Baxter's were my neighbors when I was married to Sara," he shared.

"Oh." She clenched her pale hands and straightened her slender shoulders. No doubt she realized how her party dress revealed more that he'd seen of her in a very long time.

"And you?" He buried his nervous hands into the pockets of his black silk Armani suit.

"I, we. . ." she blushed. "Sorry to confess, but my date and I crashed their party. He wanted to prove that marriages can last."

"Ah." Jack scrunched his face and glanced toward the men's bathroom. No sign of Lantern Jaw. "Well, Harry and Mary are living proof."

"Testing, testing!" Speaking of the honored couple, Harry and Mary stood on stage by the orchestra and Harry was tapping the microphone. The eighty-five-year old got the crowd's attention then announced, "I want to thank everyone for being here tonight and sharing our celebration of fifty blessed years together. I also want to expose a part of my soul and hope that it gives you all hope and determination to stick it out, no matter the cost. Some of you folks know that Mary and I went through some rough times, especially before we got married. See, I wasn't the easiest guy to love."

Mary kissed his cheek and hugged his arm for assurance. Harry smiled lovingly down at her. "But she didn't give up on me. Ya see Mary and I had been coworkers and friends long before we became lovers. Trouble is, I was her boss and there's ten years between us, so I didn't know if I should pursue her. Of course, I didn't realize she was in love with me too."

Mary caressed his leathered cheek. He patted her hand and winked.

Jack glanced at Sam to find her totally mesmerized with the older couple's public proclamation of love. Jack dragged a finger beneath his shirt collar. Was it getting warm in here?

Harry continued. "Anyhow, before we came clean about our true feelings, I felt unworthy of Mary's love and devotion so I purposely pushed her away, drove her into the arms of another man. Talk about three fries short of a happy meal." Harry winked at Jack, because Jack had stolen that amusing line from Harry years ago.

Ah, shit! Jack had heard this story and didn't want Sam to hear it, at least with him here. Where in blazes was her date? Jack couldn't believe how much he wanted the man to rescue him.

Talkative Harry kept on a talking. "This next song was previously recorded by the king himself, Elvis Presley, and although bittersweet it is one of our favorites. So, I encourage you to take the words to heart. If you haven't told that special person you love how you feel, don't wait. Do it now! So you won't ever know the heartache that I and Mary put each other through because of stupid pride." That said, Harry nodded to the orchestra then lead his white haired wife onto the dance floor.

Jack couldn't believe what poured out of his mouth. "So, wanna dance, Major?"

Worse, she said, "Love to, Colonel."

Jack gulped, took her hand and led her into a waltz. When he looked down, she wore a bashful smile and then nibbled her lips, a habit that always made his head turn into mush. He couldn't remember her ever looking more enchanting. Sam's tall curvaceous body fit his battle hardened frame like a leather glove. They were a perfect match. Always had been. Still duty and love raged within his heart. Jack decided that for this one dance he'd screw the regs.

He pulled Sam close and nuzzling her neck, whispered, "Off the record, Samantha. You look beautiful tonight. But then, you are always beautiful."

He felt her tremble, and then she rested her head on his chest. "Off the record, Jack. You are one handsome silver fox. And I love the suit."

Jack lifted his head and gazed into her liquid blue gaze. Had she any idea what her eyes did to him? He smiled. She smiled. Jack's heart did a triple back-flip. Maybe he was having a heart attack. Maybe he had died. Sam smelled like heaven. She was heaven. He was dancing with the woman of his dreams, his best friend, his confidant, his wanna-be-lover. So was this God's way of nudging him to confess his heart? Or was it God's nudge to let her go? _'Could use one of Your neon signs about now, Lord?'_

And then the soloist sang,

"_You give your hand to me and then you say hello  
And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so  
And anyone could tell, you think you know me well  
But you don't know me _

"_No you don't know the one who dreams of you at night  
And longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight  
To you I'm just a friend, and that's all I've ever been  
No, you don't know me _

_For I never knew the art of making love  
Though my heart aches with love for you  
Afraid and shy I let my chance go by  
The chance that you might love me too . . ."_

Jack drew her right hand up between them and held tight. Sam looked up and really, really looked at him. Did she hear the lyrics, did she understand what he couldn't publicly confess? Jack gazed down and offered one of his rare dimpled smiles.

Sam gasped softly.

'_Yes! She wins the door prize! This song is about us, Sam. Can you feel my heart, can you . . .'_

"I believe the lady is with me, Colonel O'Neill." A large hand tapped Jack's shoulder. Lantern Jaw had cut in and so wasn't smiling.

Still in Jack's embrace Sam looked at both men. "You guys know each other?"

"Sorta." Jack explained before blondy could. "We met a few minutes ago. I failed to catch your name?" He sent the younger a naive look, but the kid didn't budge. Apparently, he'd gotten his mojo back.

"Sir, this is my friend, Pete Shanahan. You know the cop I told you about." Sam politely reminded him.

Jack offered his infamous dense as a doorknob look.

"My brother Mark introduced us," she gestured between her and Pete with a tone of frustration toward Jack.

"Ooh . . . that guy." Jack wanted to puke, while Sam seemed to pickup on the competitive tension between the men.

"And, Pete, this is my CO Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"Colonel," Pete acknowledged coldly. Oh, yeah this was going to be interesting.

"Nice to meet you, Peppy."

Sam crossed her arms and scowled at him.

"What?" Jack played dumber, after all he did it so well.

Sam didn't buy in. "Please, sir?"

"Oh, you mean Pete as in peat moss." Jack extended his hand to the man, but Peppy didn't accept the gesture.

"Ouch!" Jack winced. Sam had pinched his waist. Trying not to grin he sternly glanced down at her. "Careful, Major."

"You too, sir." Whoops, his major was pissed.

"Fine. I'll behave." Jack looked up to find Petty frowning at Jack's intimate exchange with his girlfriend. Cool! Jack's left hand remained purposely on Sam's opposite hip. But when she squirmed he reluctantly let go. After all that was serious fraternization.

"Well, this is awkward." Sam blew out her rose-tinted lips with a nervous smile, her gaze flitting from Jack to Pete, then back to Jack. He knew her looks too well.

"Yep, getting there," he acknowledged with a downward tug of his mouth. Jack wondered what had happened to the lippy guy he'd met in the restroom.

"Sam, you never mentioned that your boss is a lot older than us." Oy! Lippy Lantern Jaw was back.

Careful, Jack silently warned the man, not about himself, but Sam. He glanced her way. Yep right on cue, blood rose beneath Sam's ivory complexion.

"I'll have you know Colonel O'Neill is in high physical form, Pete. You should see him train the new recruits. He runs them into the ground and doesn't break a sweat."

Jack coughed at Sam's exaggeration. Last time he trained SGC team recruits he'd nearly died from heat exhaustion, and had iced his knees and lower back the entire week afterward. Not that those snoot-nosed recruits ever saw his misery. Nope. Not going to happen.

"Colonel O'Neill is also a boxer. He was the Air Force heavy weight champion three years in a row." She beamed with pride and smiled at Jack.

"Really?" Pete looked to him for confirmation.

Jack nodded but wished Sam would stop flaunting his past successes. She did know that was twenty years ago, right?

"Well, I'm a detective with the Denver P.D. Staying in top physical shape is required to keep one's job. We honestly don't often see men your age keeping up with a fugitive on the hoof, Colonel."

It took all his restraint to be the better man. But one glimpse at Sam's distressed features and he could do no other. "Yes, well, one must know one's limitations, son."

"Sure. Maybe you and I'll have an opportunity to show Sam who's the better man in the ring, huh?"

"You're on," Jack countered.

"Guys!" Sam's pleading gaze settled on him.

Yep, time to bail her out. "Well, like Carter said, this has been awkward, _son_, and its way past this '_old man's'_ bedtime."

"Glad you realize that, Jack." Pete drawled as if to clarify they weren't on equal ground regarding Sam.

"Please, sir, don't leave on our account. Besides, we crashed the anniversary party." She looked to Pete for backup. Instead, Lantern Jaw snared her slim waist and yanked her against his right hip. To Jack's delight she scowled and politely broke free.

"Shush!" Jack raised a finger. "Your secrets safe with me, Carter. Now you, kids, dance your young hearts out and enjoy the romantic ambiance." He faced Pete. "Just make sure you have her home by midnight, son, or you'll turn into a pumpkin." Jack emphasized with a glint before turning on his heels.

"He's kidding, right?" Jack heard Pete's exasperation.

"Hardly." Sam replied drolly. "Sir, wait?" she called out.

Jack stopped and found her on his heels, leaving Pete stranded on the dance floor staring after them like a lost waif.

"Hey, get back to your date." Jack ordered in his gruff CO voice.

Sam captured his left hand and gazed into his face with a beseeching look. "We're not involved, sir. I mean, we're just dating casually, and I—" Her soft thumb caressed the leathered back of his right hand. Jack started to melt then made a forced recovery.

"You don't owe me any explanations, Carter."

"But just now our dance, and that song . . . I thought. . . ."

"Don't read so much into a simple song and dance, Major."

"That's all it was for you?"

"Ya sure yabetcha." He shrugged indifference.

"But sir?" Sam looked at him with the most crestfallen expression.

Jack rarely lost at anything when he set his stubborn mind to it. And he wanted Samantha Carter more than life. All he had to do was say the word and she'd leave with him and never look back. But that didn't mean it was right. It'd meant he'd have to retire or get out of Hammond's chain of command. It meant he wouldn't lead SG-1 off world again.Oh, he could do that in a heartbeat. But could he do it to Carter, let alone to her career?

Heck, she was almost fifteen years his junior and even if she did love him, he feared she'd resent him twenty years down the road when he was using a cane or in a wheelchair. He knew what Sam needed, wanted, and deserved in her life. A husband and children. Children. Heck, Jack would probably never see their firstborn turn eighteen. He couldn't do that to her, couldn't leave her stranded with fatherless rug rats. As for the husband part, well she needed someone to keep up with her including under the sheets, not this old wreck with arthritic knees and a bad back.

For Sam's sake he had to let go, let her fly and do what he did best. Be a jackass. He raised a hand and touched the bow of her mouth. "Listen to me, Carter. I'm relieved and thrilled to see that you finally got a life outside the SGC. He seems like a good man in need of a good woman, and that most likely is you. Pete's the lucky guy."

"But?" She looked hurt and gripped his hand tighter.

"Nah! You know how I feel about clichés and butt jokes, Sam." Whoops, he'd called her Sam. "Whatever could have happened got locked in that room years ago, and I quite honestly lost the key. Besides, you deserve better. So go be happy, Carter. That's an order." Jack brushed a chaste kiss across her tensed forehead and with one last squeeze of her trembling hand, he let go and walked out of her personal life.

"Goodbye, sir." Sam's soft voice barely reached him.

Even when Jack heard her sob he forced one unsteady leg in front of the other. Not looking back he waved and walked faster, hoping no one saw the tears tracking his face. As he cleared the exit door, he heard the last stanza that summed up the state of his battered heart, and realized that Samantha Carter really never knew him.

"_You give your hand to me and then you say good-bye  
I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy  
To never, never know the one who loves you so  
No, you don't know me."_

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: All I want for Christmas is You  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8  
Characters: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Well our favorite couple is about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn! But hey, this little story belongs to me.  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: The best present I could get!

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_**Luck is a crapshoot. **_

Pete Shanahan stood on the sidelines of the dance floor and watched his girlfriend talk to her boss. Actually O'Neill did the talking. Knowing how to comprehend body language went along with being a police detective, which made the crime scene hard to observe. The military coworkers seemed too comfortable invading each other's space. Pete shut his eyes and surrendered. If Sam came back he'd be the luckiest guy on earth. After all, he'd seen enough evidence when he found her dancing with O'Neill. Samantha Carter had yet to look at Pete with that much affection and something that fell within the category of those three great emotions, faith, hope and love.

Sam was nuts about her commander. Pete had sensed that possibility weeks back, but hadn't wanted it to be true. Sam certainly didn't want to discuss the matter, especially with him. The one time he'd tried she went ballistic, reciting the non-fraternization rule. The fact she could recite something that detailed should have been a red flag. Then again, she was a genius.

O'Neill walked toward the exit while Sam hurried into the restroom. That was a good sign, right? Instead, he felt the fool at how he had spewed high school locker room talk with the older man. Who, he'd never admit, he sort of admired. Okay, admired was the wrong word. The colonel had set him up so smoothly in the restroom that Pete never knew what hit him. And then, their battle of wits on the dance floor presented furthered evidence that Sam and O'Neill had history and not just as coworkers. They were or had been in love. He definitely wasn't the lucky guy.

"Pete?" Sam gently tugged his arm.

He opened his eyes. Sam stood before him smiling.

He anxiously glanced at the door through which O'Neill had existed. "I thought. . ."

"What?" She led him toward the front entrance of the building with the mindset of a pit bull.

"You and O'Neill."

Sam turned and faced him. Her pretty features wore an attitude of resignation he'd seen before. "Pete, Colonel O'Neill is foremost my superior officer and secondly, he's a friend. I'm sorry you were misled and felt threatened. I admit that he can be intense and overbearing. But he's that way with everyone who serves with him. That's what makes him a good CO." Sam pressed a convincing smile and sprinted toward his car. Pete stayed on her heels, wondering why she was in a rush.

"So?" He opened her passenger door and cocked his head.

"So, handsome," she kissed him firmly on the mouth before climbing in, "you're the lucky guy." She winked.

"Oh!" Pete jogged around the front of his car. As he got into the driver's seat he mumbled, "I sure hope so."

"What?" Sam asked, strapping herself in.

"Nothing." He glanced at her beautiful smile and shoved all concerns of Jack O'Neill out the back door—for now. When Sam caressed his arm Pete's confidence soared. Maybe he was the _lucky_ guy after all.

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_**Faith moves mountains!**_

Nine months later:

Date: December Twenty-third

Location: Jack's house

"_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true, oh baby, all I want for Christmas is you"  
_  
Jack ignored the poignant Christmas song that played in the background as he tossed more wood onto the hot embers in his fireplace. Closing the glass doors he scrubbed his sweater sleeved arms and shivered. Dang, he couldn't get warm. Although, he'd been cold long before the winter storm hit this afternoon. Yeah, being the _man_ sometimes did that to him, made his blood run cold. His thoughts crept back to the events that had caused him to make a career decision he'd been tossing about since the first day he took command of the SGC. Today had cinched the deal. He'd almost made a call that could have cost the lives of Daniel, Teal'c and Sam. And it wasn't the first time. His O'Neill gut instinct that he'd survived on all these years almost failed him today. Just one more sign, he couldn't do this anymore.

Jack glanced at his unsteady hands. Five hours later and they still shook. He never was made of the same metal as Hammond. Jack's strength lied in that of a seasoned field officer. Even brigadier generals didn't sweat in the field. Nope, they sweated behind mahogany desks and sat in comfy leather chairs, making life and death decisions without the advantage of being out there with their teams. Jack hated his job.

He grabbed another beer and settled on the sofa recalling the start of the long grueling week when the Stargate got hijacked during third shift. Poor Walter Harriman had probably seen his life pass before his eyes when he had to tell Jack the bad news. Two hours later, Jack's life passed before his eyes when he told President Hayes.

A week after the fact, Jack still longed to strangle Daniel. But then what was new? Anyhow, around 0440 hours last Sunday morning, they stood in the conference room staring . . . fine, gawking in disbelief into the Gate Room that was minus one honking Stargate. Until now, Jack hadn't realized just how much space the Stargate occupied.

A steaming cup of Jackson's specialty coffee in hand, Daniel looked at Jack's pale countenance, knowing full well the dastardly deed Jack had yet to do. And what words of wisdom did his best friend offer? "I'd hate to be the guy that has to explain this to the President." Daniel glanced over, shuddered and walked off, leaving Jack to do the dirty task alone. The chicken shit!

"Jack, it's the week before Christmas and three a.m. in the morning here. My four grandchildren have invaded my bed. My wife has a migraine and my mother-in-law is a royal hemorrhoid that I'm stuck with for two more weeks. Not to mention the Russians are riding my butt because you still won't include them in SGC operations. So this better be a really bad practical joke." President Hayes yawned into the phone.

Crap! "Sorry. No joke, Mister President. The gate is gone, missing in action, vamoosed." Jack made a whooshing sound, but figured the President couldn't appreciate the sound affect without seeing Jack's accompanying hand motions. "It's so not here, sir." His arm went limp at his side and he stared out of his office window at the vacant Gate Room.

Dead dumb silence.

"Um, Mister President?"

"Just popping something for my acid reflux, Jack. Buffer, stop humping my pillow!"

Jack heard a dog bark, children giggle, rustling noises and the jingle of pills. "Have you tried that new over the counter medication called Acid Dump? Wait, that's not right, it's called—."

"Shut up, Jack!"

"Yes, Mister President." Jack unbuttoned his BDU jacket. His lower gut rumbled with discomfort. The last thing he needed was to crap his pants.

"Now tell me again and this time you better be serious, or I'm sending my in-laws and their overweight dog with a bladder problem to your house for Christmas. And did I mention he humps pillows?"

Jack gulped. Unfortunately, the president was a man of his word. "Oh, I'm serious, sir." Jack wiped moisture from his forehead. "The Stargate has left the building." He hummed the Elvis concert intro music and drummed his fingers on his desk top.

"For the record, General, I hate Elvis."

"Oh, sorry, um, wrong President—" Shit!

"So how in the name of all that's holy can anyone lose a five ton Stargate?"

"Well actually, sir, there are several theories. Colonel Carter's working on the most plausible possibility as we speak. One theory being the Asgard, but Thor's usually more considerate. Then there's the Tok'ra. Those slithering slime wads tend to take now and explain later. But the worst case scenario is Baal, who has control of most of Anubis' fleet and possesses the technology. But if it's any consolation, this is a first—."

"Damn. The oversight committee will have my ass. And if that happens I'm going to castrate your—"

"Sir! There are children present." Jack glanced nervously at his privates.

"I'm alone in my office, Jack!"

"Oh, well, then with all due respect, slice and dice away, sir."

He did. Jack could still hear the otherwise laid back Commander and Chief go ballistic. Jack swore he'd finally gone deaf in his right ear. He had no idea Hayes could reach such high decibels.

Things got worse. Carter got abducted by the snarky Trust aboard an orbiting, cloaked Al'kesh. Jack had not planned on that underhanded fiasco. So, he went to his office, locked his door, took out Hammond's bottle of bourbon and drank two shots before his nerves settled. If anything happened to her . . . he so, wouldn't go there. That's when Jack realized how much he detested desk flying. He wanted to go after Carter, be a part of the rescue mission. That's what he did best. But couldn't. He had important stuff to do like decide between white or blue corn chips for Taco Tuesday. And heaven forbid he forgot that backorder of T.P. Did he mention he hated his job?

Oy, and then the fricking Trust wiped out one of Ba'al's occupied planets including an undercover Tok'ra. Too bad Ba'al hadn't been hanging out there. Thankfully, Teal'c's reliance on Tritonin saved his life.

Then Daniel got an idea of brilliant stupidity to use Osiris' hand device, Nirrti's cloaking dojiggy and beam aboard the Trust's vessel to rescue Sam. Jack hadn't liked that idea. He knew Daniel would get zatted before he could rescue Sam. Yep, he did. But hey, the linguist was as stubborn as Carter. So Jack ordered the Prometheus to keep a close eye on the Al'kesh. Jack's plan A being that Colonel Pendergast would rescue Sam and Daniel ASAP. Wrong.

See Colonel Pendergast had a plan B to take out the vessel before it reached hyper drive with Sam and Daniel aboard. So there Jack sat with the lives of people he loved dangling from a thread. His thread.

Colonel Pendergast repeatedly requested Jack's go-ahead to take out the Al'kesh. Each time, Jack said, "Wait. Just a little more time." And each time a part of him died. Jack was about to give Pendergast the 'go' when, the commander announced that the gate and SG-1 were safely onboard the Prometheus. Jack aged a decade. Thank God, Sam was alive! But what about next time? During this past year of base command, he kept telling himself that he could do this. At least, he saw Carter everyday. And although, she'd never be his lover or wife, just watching her leave and return safely through the gate had proven sufficient. Until now.

A few hours ago with the gate secured in the Gate Room, Daniel and Sam had behaved rather smug about their mission, typical actually. Odd, Jack just realized that. He recalled all the years as the leader of SG-1 that he too had acted full of himself toward General Hammond after a successful mission. He now surmised what a jerk he'd been to the silent suffering '_man_.'

Now the '_man'_ Jack was too close to the situation to feel glib. Today he questioned his usual gut instinct. Jack had a strong need to punch someone. Daniel would do quite nicely. Jack's flagship team had no idea how hard it'd been for him to make that call, that he was within seconds of telling Pendergast to destroy the Al'kesh with SG-1. He almost murdered SG-1.

Jack remained thankful that upon his return Teal'c had privately and respectfully acknowledged he knew of Jack's internal conflict over destroying the Al'kesh. The Jaffa expressed his sincere appreciation for saving their lives.

Jack humbly responded, "Hey, it's what I do, Teal'c."

Jack now looked over at Daniel. He honestly didn't expect anything from the younger man. Daniel was too caught up in destroying Anubis and finding Atlantis, to consider Jack's position with the past week's events. Jack didn't hold that against him. After all, Daniel was, well Daniel, and Jack wouldn't have him any other way.

But Carter well, he hoped that her leadership qualities would shine through. Oh, fer crying outloud! He was having a pity party for one. _'Get a grip O'Neill. There's no need for Carter or anyone else to acknowledge how many times a day you make crucial calls for all of your teams. That tough duty goes with those heavy stars on your shoulders.__ 'He ain't heavy he's my brother.'_ Oh, brother, he needed to go home and sleep for a week.

Annoyed with himself, Jack broke free of his self-imposed misery. Daniel and Sam stood on the lower end of the gate's ramp, while Teal'c hovered just feet away. Daniel and Sam had been babbling nonstop about the mission, the gate, yada, yada.

Jack yawned.

" . . . In retrospect," Daniel glanced at Jack and suggested, "Maybe you should have destroyed the ship when you had the chance."

Looking at Sam's expectant face Jack bit back the hard-assed remark that burned his lips. Instead, he said in an unflappable tenor, "Yeah. Tough choice." He turned and slapping his hand against his leg, headed for the sanctuary of his office.

An hour later, Sam donned in snug black pants and a fitted green sweater poked her blond head in his office. "Oh, you're still here, sir."

"Yup. No rest for the wicked ya know. So flying off to Denver, aye?" He made a swooping gesture and noise with his hands.

"Yes, sir." She grinned at his childish antics. "General Hammond already picked up Cassandra and will drop her off at your house tomorrow morning."

"I know. He just called."

"Ah." She nodded and hedged a nervous smile.

Both wanted to discuss the matter of their joint ward Cassandra Fraiser, and why she wasn't going with Sam to Denver. Here on base however, was not the place for the personal conversation they'd yet had time to engage. When she returned the day after Christmas, Jack intended to clear the air. Still, that he had Cassandra was a good deal his fault and blessing. He never could say no to Carter and, Cassandra, well that was a lost cause. Both females had him hook, line and sinker. He just hoped they never realized to what extend or he'd be fish bait. Besides, spending the holiday with Cass guaranteed Jack a spirited Christmas and he'd be less likely to think about Sam.

"Um, about today, sir." The object of his thoughts scuffed the toe of her left shoe across the concrete floor.

"I know." He looked into her anxious blue gaze.

"Oh." She let out a breath. "Sir, I realize how difficult this week has been for you. And I'm grateful you allowed us additional latitude up there." She gestured toward the ceiling. "Colonel Pendergast explained that he had wanted to fire sooner, but you wouldn't let him. How'd you know?"

"I didn't."

"Wow!"

"Yeah," he softly replied, and looked around the office for something other than her to focus on. A moment of reflection passed. He longed to be honest, tell her that he couldn't make the call, couldn't let her die. Thankfully, the weak-kneed moment passed.

"Just goes to show how much we rely on your intuitive gut instinct, sir."

Any other time Jack would have agreed. This time he only shrugged.

"This isn't easy for you is it?" She gestured to his office.

Jack flinched. Talk about reading his mind, sometimes the woman was darn right spooky.

"No. No it's not, Carter."

"I'm sorry." She hugged her arms against the swell of her breasts and shook her head. He saw distress on her soft features.

"Excuse me?"

"I—I pushed you to take Weir's post here, sir."

Jack saw the remorse in her eyes. Not what he wanted to see or hear. "Carter, you had nothing to do with my decision to fly this desk." _'Liar, liar, pants on fire.'_

"I didn't?" she sounded confused and disappointed. Good.

"No. We all know my time as a field officer was winding down. My knees are shot, the hearing in my right ear is questionable at best, and this body isn't forty anymore, heck it's not even fifty. And did I mention this last time when Thor downloaded the Ancient knowledge from my noggin he got extra bangs for the buck? I swear half my brain is missing in action." He tapped his knuckles against his skull and made a hollow pooping sound with his tongue and cheek. "See."

Sam's eyes widened in horror. "Holy Hannah, sir!"

"Hey, I'm kidding . . . I think." He winked in jest.

Sam let out a breath of relief then scowled because he'd once again yanked her chain.

"Honestly, Carter, it was either the desk or fishing. And let me say the latter is looking more inviting everyday." He winked.

"Ah." Sam made a slight head bob before a fresh look of horror crossed her face. "But you aren't going anytime soon, I hope."

"Que sera sera." He leaned forward, clasped his hands on the desktop and considered her less than receptive tone and expression. "No, Carter, I'm not going anytime soon." So had his nose grown an extra inch? He pinched the tip of his snoot and gazed crossed-eyed at the outer extremity. Sure looked longer.

"General?" Sam donned a befuddled look, one he usually initiated. "Are you okay?" She leaned over and gazed at his nose as if it'd sprouted branches.

Un-pinching himself Jack cleared his throat and tried to regain his dignity. "Just peachy, Major."

"That's a relief." She smiled brighter. "And thank you, sir." She held his unblinking gaze.

"Now what for?"

"Being here for us."

"Oh, that. Hey, think nothing of it," he replied with a cheerful tone.

Sam lingered, touching one of many files on his desk. Jack sensed she had something to say. Anytime with Carter was a bonus, so he didn't boot her out.

"So, some word from Dad?" Jack winced at his tactless question.

"You'd know before I would, sir." Her kissable mouth dipped at the corners.

"Yeah. But I'm sure he'll phone home. Maybe even gate over for eggnog. That's if the Tok'ra believe in a jolly fat elf."

"That'd be nice but I'm not holding my breath. It's just hard to explain to Mark and his family. I mean Dad's been out of contact for eight months."

"Yeah, been thinking about that." He snapped his fingers. "Your brother deserves security clearance." Jack folded his hands behind his head and arched his tension sore shoulders.

"Are you serious?" Sam balked.

"Well, since you spilled the beans to Pete . . ." Oy, did he say that? Jack dropped his hands and scrunched his face, waiting for the familiar Carter storm.

Sam tensed but said nothing.

"I didn't mean it that way, Colonel." He apologized.

"I know, sir. And I appreciate your offer, but that's one more person who'd know and I don't want Mark's family in danger."

"So scratch the security pass badge, huh?"

"If you would, sir?"

"Your wish is my command." Boy, wasn't that the truth. Jack returned to his paperwork because he hated to say goodbye especially at Christmas knowing she would be with Shanahan. Besides, what else was there to be said? Jack sensed her silent vigilance and glanced up to find her closer. He could smell the light fragrance of Jasmine. Sweet.

"Anything else, Colonel?"

Sam's smile faded at his formal address. "Um, no, sir. I just well," she patted her palms against her thighs, "wanted to wish you a merry Christmas and . . ."

"Happy New Year?" He presented his stoic CO face. "You too, Carter. Have a nice time with the future in-laws and give Mark my best." He pressed a smile that he knew didn't reach his eyes. Well, he'd tried.

"Um, I won't be seeing Mark."

"Oh, why's that?"

"He and the family are going to Connie's parents in San Francisco for Christmas. I'm staying with Pete's family."

"I see. Well, you still have a nice Christmas. I know I will with my favorite girl, Cassandra."

Sam's smile crashed and burned.

"Sorry." He drummed his ever moving hands on the desktop.

"Don't be. It was her choice." Sam admitted with a shake of her fair-haired head.

"Carter, Cass is still a minor. She should go where you go, no questions asked."

"Sir, she's almost eighteen and wants to spend Christmas with you and as her joint-legal guardian, you have that right. With Janet's death so fresh I can't deny her, _sir._ Besides, you know why she won't come with me to Denver. And I can just imagine what she said to make you sympathetic to her cause."

Oy! So not going there. "Not now, Carter." Jack resented that he had broken his own rule, to never discuss personal issues on the clock. "Look, we'll talk about this later." He made a shooing gesture with his hand and signed his name to a new doohickey request, ironically Carter's.

"That's always your pat answer." Sam planted her hands on his desk and got in his face. "But there never is a later is there, sir?"

"Just what's that supposed to mean?" Jack shot to his feet and lorded over her.

"Oh, pleeze!" She scoffed and her blue eyes flashed white with anger. "Must I send you a memo, sir? Oh, that's right, you never get memos." She made a flippant gesture. "Amazing you know you have a desk—"

"Careful." Adrenaline raced through Jack's veins along with a good dose of testosterone. Was he getting horny? Yup.

"Oh, yeah, like I'm shaking in my boots. Wait, I'm wearing loafers, coz I'm off the clock! I have a life, remember?" She pointed at his desk clock. "A life that should have started two days back so, I could spend quality time with Cassandra. But I'm like you, sir. Duty always comes first, life second, or is it just plain never?"

Jack's jaw unhinged. He tried to recall the last time Carter had been so blatantly out of line. Oh, yeah, when they got addicted to that feel good light on P4X-347. Sam not only went off on him, he did the same to her. And well, there was a lot that never made it into their reports. Like how they sexually ravaged each other on the sandy beach of that lake. Last thing he remembered was trying to get out of his BDU's while Sam yanked off his jacket. Oh, he remembered how sweet her dog tags were nestled between her breasts and that he called them, "His twins." Thankfully, Teal'c knocked Jack out with one punch, while Daniel cooled off Sam with a helmet of lake water. Ah yes, such blissful memories.

Jack realized how much he missed Sam letting loose and reaming him another rectum, let alone what it did to him. Ever since their dance at Harry and Mary's anniversary, he purposely held back and had forgotten how good it felt to spare with this beautiful woman, even if she wasn't his to spare with. Trouble was, they never got to make up.

Jack tossed caution to the wind and decided to push the envelope. After all, he was the '_man_.' "Now you've crossed the line, Carter," he said close to her face, their noses grazing.

"Nice to know one us still can!" She countered.

Jack inhaled her warm sensual breath, which caused a specific part of his anatomy to go rigid. To his shock, Sam poked him in the chest with her finger.

Jack poked her above the breastbone when he really wanted to poke something softer.

Sam glared and poked harder.

Jack growled and poked back.

The military rule of 'do not touch' rule waylaid, Jack yanked her close and stared into her defiant eyes that held something else, mutual lust. He never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Carter right now. Right here on his desk. Crap, he'd yet to let her go, let her fly.

Sam squirmed but that brought her hard against him and his pelvis pressed her stomach. Jack saw her dumbstruck expression as she felt his physical response. He saw a court martial charge for sexual harassment. Sam thrust her hips against his--again. Oy! So much for sexual harassment charges.

Turned on, Jack cradled her soft face in his hands. "Samantha," rolled off his tongue. The fury in her ebbed and for the first time in months, Jack felt hope for them.

"General O'Neill?" Walter tapped on the open door then froze in place, his mouth swinging open like a barn door.

Whoops! Jack let go. Sam backed off and her features darkened with embarrassment as she put her rigid backside to Sergeant Harriman.

"Um, sorry, sir, ma'am," Walter chocked out and motioned to leave ASAP.

Jack made a quick recovery; after all, he was the '_man_.' "What can I do for you, Walter?"

He calmly took his place behind the desk and waved the sergeant inside.

Walter hurried over with a standard order form in his shaking hand. "Um, just the backorder for the missing T.P., sir. The order got shipped to Area 51 instead, but is in transit as we speak."

"Thank you, Walter. Now go home and finish Christmas shopping for your kids."

"Thank you, sir." His nervous gaze flitted to Sam, who'd yet to acknowledge him.

"Um, merry Christmas, General O'Neill, and to you, Colonel Carter?" He continued to back out of the office.

Jack nodded then glanced at Sam, who had composed herself and turned toward the beet faced Walter.

"A merry Christmas to you and your family, Sergeant Harriman." Sam squeaked out.

Jack winced. After all their years serving together, she and Walter had like Jack, an informal relationship that meant Sam rarely addressed Walter by his rank or last name. Jack watched his assistant blush and run for the hills.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Walter Harriman moved like the wind until he was clear of the general's office. A grin split his face. Yes, he'd finally caught them in the act. Well, almost. Hey, it was about time those lovebirds got it on. Walter hoped Colonel Carter would drop that bozo cop that she planned to marry. Walter never had understood why such a smart woman would choose another when the man she obviously loved was here night and day watching her six.

Well, he did understand the non-fraternization regs, etc. But for Pete sakes, they'd been carrying a torch for each way too long. Something had to give and by the explosive scene he'd walked in on, Walter knew O'Neill and Carter were about to explode. He could almost smell the sex pheromones bouncing between the couple.

Were Walter a betting man, which he was, another two seconds and the General would have planted a wet one on his Lieutenant Colonel's lips. Walter longed to tell someone but wouldn't. He respected O'Neill and Colonel Carter too much to ever squeal. Besides, now he could ask the general to replace the broken chair in his cubical. And if he played his cards right, he could get a flat screen TV for the SGC's recreation room. Ah, yes, Walter wasn't above a little blackmail, after all, he'd learned from the best, General O'Neill.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Well, that went well," Jack said under his breath thankful his crotch no longer made a dent in his BDU's. He assumed Walter was already making his 'blackmail list.' Yep, this little humiliation would cost Jack big time. Still, it'd been worth it. He glanced at Sam to find her eating her lips.

"Chill, Carter. Walter's not a blabbermouth. Although, he'll probably ask you to upgrade his home computer--free."

She didn't seem to hear, so he said louder. "Earth to Carter."

"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry!" She stood at attention, saluted and sputtered, "I don't know what set me off . . ." she waved a hand as if to snatch an explanation out of thin air. "I'm truly sorry, General O'Neill, truly I am." Chewing her lips, she looked at her shoes. Jack knew she was sincere. So was he.

"A tad bit overkill on the sorry theme." Jack stated, "at ease, Colonel."

"Um, sorry." She grimaced and relaxed her stance. "Sir, I'd no right to speak that way. You have every right to bring me up on insubordination charges. In fact, I insist."

"Then I insist you do the same to me, Carter," he said seriously.

"Sir?" He loved her bewildered look.

"Chill, Carter, I'm not pressing charges. We both behaved inappropriately." He cut a smile.

"Yes, but—"

"Naah!" He held up a finger. "It's been a taxing week, so let's call it a day and not dwell shall we?"

"Just like that, sir?" She looked dubious.

"Yup, just like that." He smiled. "Now go home and finish packing so you don't miss your flight."

"Ya sure yabetcha." Carter left no dust under her shoes when she hurried out of his office.

Jack stood, shut his office door and leaned heavily against the closure. Mass confusion ruled his heart. Nice to know they were still hot for each other. But was mutual lust all they now shared? What would happen if they followed through and got the _L_ issue out of their systems? Ah, let's be honest, Jack, even if they weren't in the same line of command, that wouldn't happen. Impersonal sex went against everything he believed and he knew Carter's values were also above reproach. No, he wanted his dream, the whole enchilada. He wanted all of Samantha Carter. Wedding bells, a house and three kids, a dog, yup, all or nothing.

And Sam was about to share those dreams with someone else, the lucky guy. Reality kicked Jack in the assets. So, he would buy a dog and fish alone. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Jack looked at the empty office and shook his head. The moment Sam had left, he felt cold and vacant inside. He shut his weary eyes and blew out his mouth.

Crap! The only thing he wanted for Christmas was about to board a jet for Denver. That was wrong on so many levels. Christmas carols blared from the base intercom. Jack stuck his pointers into his ears and hummed off key—loud. Until today, Christmas had always been his favorite holiday. No more.

Jack hated Christmas!

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

After shutting down his computer, Walter Harriman dialed General Hammond's home phone and waited.

"Hammond residence," a young woman's voice answered.

"Oh, is General Hammond there?"

"Yup. This is Sergeant Harriman, right?"

Walter smiled into the phone. "Yes, ma'am, and would this be Cassandra Fraiser I'm speaking with?"

"Yeah sureyabetcha. Did Sam leave yet?"

"Yes."

"Good. Is she coming here to get me or going to the airport?"

"I,'m. . .not certain about that."

"Oh," she sounded deflated. "Didn't Jack stop her, confess his undying love and--?"

"Um, no, I. . . " Boy, what could he tell the poor kid that wouldn't get him in trouble?

Someone spoke in the background and Cassandra said, "Sergeant, Uncle George wants to talk to you."

Saved by the general!

"Merry Christmas, Walter."

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Fraiser."

"Sorry about that, son. So, what's the word?" General Hammond asked with an anxious tone.

"The hen has left the henhouse, sir."

"And the fox?"

"Sulking, sir. He just shut his door and turned out his light."

"Good."

"Only if you say so. They appeared to have had an emotional discussion."

"Even better."

"Now what, sir?"

"Trust me, the less you know the safer you'll be from General O'Neill. But an extra dose of faith would come in handy, son."

"Got plenty of that, sir."

"Thanks, Walter. Inform me when the fox leaves the henhouse."

"Yes, sir. And, General Hammond, have a joyful Christmas."

"You too, Sergeant, and give your family my best. In the meantime, let's pray this proves to be a joyful Christmas for our fox and hen."

"That's a done deal, sir, the praying part that is."

"Amen, son, amen!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: All I want for Christmas is You  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8  
Pairing:: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Well our favorite couple Jack and Sam are about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, SJ shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn! But hey, this little story belongs to me.  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: The best present I could get! And if I made an error of general cannon please let me know.

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Colorado Springs Municipal Airport:

What was she doing here? She didn't want to spend Christmas without Cassandra or heaven help her, without General O'Neill._ 'Oh, brother, I actually admitted what I've been denying for so long. I'm still in love with Jack!'_

'_Tough luck! You made your bed, now sleep in it, woman. Luck_!' Not a popular word in General O'Neill's vocabulary. She recalled a few years back, when he and Daniel got into a debate on faith versa luck. Daniel of course, initiated the dialogue.

"I've come to the conclusion that the virtues of faith are highly overrated."

His lean back braced against Daniel's artifact cluttered worktable, Jack walked the dog with his yoyo, while Sam finished their last mission report on her pc.

Sam glanced at Daniel who per usual was talking to an audience of one, himself. "Now on the other hand luck and fortune, well that's plausible given the odds that luck is either a lady or a tramp. What do you think, Jack?"

"Would you repeat the question?" Jack rocked the cradle then spun his red yo-yo into his hand and pocketed it in his BDUs.

"I said—"

"Nah!" Jack held up a hand and smiled, "heard ya before."

"Well?" Daniel rested his chin on his right hand and waited. So did Sam, wait that is.

"If life's taught me anything, Daniel, luck is a crapshoot. Luck doesn't have any loyalties. That's why I rely on faith in myself and a higher power."

"Um, Jack, you don't believe in the Ancients."

"Oh, I believe in the Ancients, but don't buy into the whole ascending to a higher plan of existence bullshit."

"But I did ascend."

"Yes you did, Daniel, and just like I predicted, you're back." He flourished a hand. "And don'cha think, it rather odd that you don't remember any of your time cloud surfing?"

"Well, I . . ."

"Something's not kosher about those self-absorbed Ancients, Daniel. However, I do believe in heaven and hell, God Almighty, angels and demons. Raised Irish Catholic, ya know. But I think Satan gets more credit that he's due. A lot of mankind's misery is self-inflicted. That whole free will thing we've got going on. Oh," he snapped his fingers, "I finished listening to the Bible on tape, actually bought the CD. Teal'c's listening to it. Odd, but he got torked when I told him how the Book of Revelations ends." Jack crinkled his face as if confused.

Daniel got that doh look, the one only Colonel O'Neill could take credit for. "Wow! I can't believe Jack O'Neill has gone spiritual."

Sam remained silent, but looked expectantly at her CO. She'd always suspected there was deeper stuff beneath his hard ass soldier veneer and the possibility intrigued her.

"Why, because I'm a tad bit cynical, Daniel?" Jack's smile ironed out.

"A tad bit?" Daniel snorted. "How about that trip to Ne'tu, when you spewed, 'Well, I'm gonna end up there sooner or later. May as well check out the neighborhood.'"

"Hey, I was wrestling demons back then." Jack defended with a grimace. "Sometimes still do."

"Aren't we all, sir?" Sam offered, thinking about the unresolved issues between her father and brother.

"Thank you, Carter." He sniffed and readdressed the linguist. "And quoting one Doctor Jackson, we're all spiritual creatures. That's what separates us from the Goa'uld, Replicators, even the Asgard. Faith is a human quality, Daniel, goes along with the other intrinsic emotions of hope, trust, and love. Actually, faith and hope kind of overlap." He crisscrossed his arms then untangled them.

"But—"

"Tell me something, Daniel, when's the last time you saw luck move a mountain?"

"Well, I um—" Daniel hiked his glasses up his nose.

"See!" Jack winked at Sam who was not only impressed but smiling.

"Actually, neither luck or faith have the ability to move anything physical, Jack."

"Beg to differ. I've never known luck to enable or encourage a person to do great things. Faith on the other hand, instills human nature to overcome honking big obstacles. Let me quote two famous song writers, Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn who wrote a great little ditty called, "High Hopes."

"Huh?" Sam and Daniel asked in unison.

"Oh, fer crying out loud. How soon we forget the great songwriters of my childhood. So does the name Frank Sinatra ring a bell?" He looked hopefully from Sam to Daniel.

"Yeah." They answered.

"Sweet." His hands shoved into his front pockets, Jack walked off and sang in perfect pitch.

"When troubles call and your back's to the wall,  
There a lot to be learned that . . . wall could fall. . . .

Just what makes that little ole ant  
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant?  
Anyone knows an ant can't  
Move a rubber tree plant.

But he's got hi-i-igh hopes, he's got hi-i-igh hopes  
He's got high apple pi-i-ie-in-the-sk-y-y hopes

So, anytime you're gettin' low, 'stead of lettin' go, just remember that ant

Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant  
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant  
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant! La la, la. . . ."

"Ants don't have faith, Jack!" Daniel yelled out smugly.

"It's a simile, Daniel!" Jack snarked and kept singing until he was out of sight.

"Wow, I thought the colonel couldn't sing." Sam looked at Daniel.

"Um, me either," he mumbled with a vacant look.

Sam laughed. "Let's face it, Daniel, the colonel got you good."

"You agree with him?"

"Ya sure yabetcha." She took up her laptop and turned to leave his lab.

"Me too." Daniel winked and hummed harmony to _High Hopes_.

"Oh, my gosh, you scammed Colonel O'Neill."

"Yup. Always knew he had faith, just needed to get him to fess up."

"You are going to be so dead when he finds out."

"Sam, you aren't going to tell him are you?" He delivered a nervous look.

"No, Daniel, I won't have too. Sooner than later he'll realize what happened and well, you know what they say about revenge being a desert best served cold." She laughed and hurried off.

"I hate desert!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

So where was Sam's faith when she needed some? _Yup, you should have broken up with Pete long before he proposed. In fact, you should have gone after Jack at the Baxter's anniversary party. But after what he'd said, practically implied that he no longer loved you, you felt humiliated and pursued Pete with a vengeance. You took him to your bed. . ."_She'd not intended to go that far. Other than Jonas Hanson, she'd not been with another man. And since meeting Jack and falling in love, she'd assumed the only man she'd ever make love with would be him. Sam had another dream, one many modern women didn't share, while Sam held onto the values she'd been raised with. She'd wanted to remain celibate until her wedding night. Well, she'd really blown that pipe dream with Pete. But she had learned from the experience.

More guilt assaulted her. Pete could never know that whenever he kissed or made love to her, she imagined him to be Jack. Heck, she'd not even admitted that to herself until this last while. She was settling, not for a safe bet, but for a temporary fix from the real deal, Jack O'Neill.

_Face it, Sam, dating Pete has been a humongous blunder. You should have realized that when you spotted him at Daniel's house during the stakeout. Had you been thinking with your brain instead of your hormones, you wouldn't be flying to Denver to dump a nice but slightly psychotic guy, because it'd never have gone on this long. Still, Sam didn't feel threatened by Pete, just annoyed. _

What had Colonel said after Pete got wounded and ended up in the SGC infirmary—under lock and key. "Hel--lo! If I had a nickel! Your boyfriend stalked you! What is it about the word _stalker_ that you don't understand, Carter? Mark my word, Shanahan's a psychotic control freak." With that, he shook his silver bed-head and _stalked_ away.

Even Daniel and Teal'c sided with her commander and that just made her dig her heels in deeper. True, Pete had spied on her. But Sam hadn't wanted to think negatively, let alone realistically that this guy might be three fries short of a kid's meal. She certainly knew how the General—um, Colonel O'Neill had felt. Angry and suspicious! And so had General Hammond until Sam convinced him that Pete was just concerned for her welfare and should be given security clearance.

Sam should have known that trouble comes in threes. Last month without consulting her, he'd been hired on at the Colorado Spring's P.D., and would report for duty January 15th. Sam never asked Pete to move to the Springs. She preferred the distance between their homes and that they had to plan their dates. With her job's constant unpredictability Sam wanted some order in her private life, while her independent nature resented Pete's control tendencies. So why was she still with him? Today, her true motivation slammed into Sam's chest like a staff weapon blast. Pete was a buffer between her and General O'Neill. And for almost a year, it had succeeded. Until today that is. She so didn't want to think about her unprofessional behavior in his office, then again, he'd not exactly been a gentleman.

Sam returned her thoughts to Pete. The final blow to her relationship with him came last week. He bought a house! Not just any house, but a quaint English Tudor like she once described to him, including a yellow kitchen and large yard. He then, highly suggested she sell her house and they move in together, until she agreed to marry him. Whatever.

After he'd given her a tour of the house he'd bought two days prior, tensions escalated to the boiling point. Something about Pete buying a dog triggered Sam's outburst that included calling him a control freak. Sam knew if she and Jack ever had followed through on their feelings, he'd never have done what Pete did without conferring her.

Just hours before Sam's abduction she and Pete had the blowout. When she returned to Earth today, she found over a dozen frantic messages of apologies along with pleading for her to come to Denver for Christmas so they could talk. Calling him from her lab, Sam reluctantly agreed because he deserved to be told face-to-face, that their fling was over and it wasn't all about General O'Neill.

Being abducted and knowing she could possibly die allowed Sam to put her life in perspective. First off, she was rarely home. And when she was, she spent it with Cassandra, actually preferred Cassandra over Pete. That alone was a neon sign.

Once Sam got past Pete's idealistic courtship, they had little in common. He couldn't talk about his job and she certainly couldn't talk about hers. Nor was he into sports. The first time she turned on a hockey game, he fell asleep. He really did like boxed wine. She liked twelve dollar bottles of Merlot and thanks to General O'Neill, Guinness. And did she mention Pete hated driving fast, refused to ride her motorcycle and when she shared about her intergalactic race in space with Warrick he had a bird, declaring she couldn't risk her life over such thrill seeking antics.

And what had Jack said when she'd shared her excitement at being asked to copilot with Warrick the following year? "Hey, why should you have all the fun, Carter? Next time I'll be your backup pilot. We can take turns flying. That's if you and Warrick don't mind an old colonel hanging out with ya?" He donned his boyish expression that always tipped the scales in his favor.

"No, we'd love to have your expertise, sir." Sam meant it.

"Sweet!' His dimples tucked deep along his mouth and Sam got that irresistible urge to kiss him. Instead, they'd looked at each other until that awkward moment when their gazes locked. Sam was a goner. Fortunately, the colonel broke eye contact, and strolled off, singing the_ Beach Boys_ racecar song, 409. "Nothing can catch her, nothing can touch her, my 409, 409ooooo . . ." For some warped reason, Sam had hoped he meant her, not the car.

Sam smirked at that fond memory, one of many she'd shared with the general, which made her realize to date she'd not had too many recollections with Pete. But then, they'd been together less than a year. In all fairness, she enjoyed Pete's company, liked the way he made her the center of his universe. Why lots of women would love to spend the rest of their lives with a guy like Pete and that included his control issues. After all, he just wanted the best for her, right?

Among his obvious good traits, Pete Shanahan was the quiet, non-complaining boyfriend. Too quiet for Sam. At least, if he ranted and raved once in awhile, she'd know he had backbone. Along with their obvious physical differences Pete remained everything Jack O'Neill wasn't. Jack wasn't quiet. Well, not quite true. He O'Neill had _quiet_ down to an art. But when he had something to say, you wanted to listen. He rarely blathered and still had the most irreverent mouth in the universe. Sam grinned. Nope, that was another art the general had perfected. No one could insult a System Lord or for that matter, the Oversight Committee, like Jack O'Neill. Why he'd acquired a reputation for flippancy that made the insult king of comedy Don Rickles look like a saint.

On the opposite side of the coin, Jack could be thoughtful and caring. He loved kids and animals, and had spoiled Cassandra rotten. He never left anyone behind and was always there for his team. Sam lost track how many times she'd awaken in the infirmary to find he'd never left her bedside. "Think nothing if it," he'd say with that cute dimpled smirk.

But when it came to articulating how he felt, Jack didn't do well. No, doubt, he'd rather face a roomful of armed Jaffa and human Replicators than verbalize his feelings. But what totally captured her heart was his humility. Rarely did she hear him brag of his accomplishments, and if he did, it was tongue in cheek. She doubted he knew how many times he'd saved Earth. Teal'c would know though.

She also enjoyed the little presents he gave her when she least expected. Nothing, a CO wouldn't get one of his officers, but still . . . he knew what mattered to her. Little things, like bringing her a chicken sandwich, blue jell-o and coffee when she was pulling an all-nighter, then keeping her company. He'd bought her a leather coat with a scarf and gloves her first year with the team stating, she was in Colorado, not D.C. and he couldn't afford for her to get sick.

He'd gotten her other quote, 'necessities,' over the years. Like three Christmas's ago when he bought her that ugly wall decoration for her lab. An animated large mouth Bass that sang, "Santa got run over by a Reindeer," every time someone walked by. No, she she chuckled, she wouldn't dwell.

Meanwhile, while far from wealthy, Pete dropped big bucks on their dates, not to mention elaborate gifts. Sam preferred to stay home, order pizza and watch a Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire movie. But she could only count three times that he actually agreed, only to reiterate how much more fun they'd have had, eating out and going to a play, etc.

Again, Pete didn't understand how much Sam missed the little things. Long walks, puttering around her house, gardening, playing chess with Cassandra, and tinkering on her motorcycle or watching a sun set from her back porch. When one's job includes almost dying and the fate of Earth rests on your shoulders it tends to affect one's priorities. Daniel, Teal'c, and General O'Neill understood. Why couldn't Pete? Sam had wanted a life of normalcy so badly that she'd dismissed the obvious. She couldn't be happy and have normal with someone who didn't appreciate her lifestyle, someone who wasn't a part of the SGC. She'd made a huge mistake comparing Pete's job as a police detective to her leading SG-1. The only thing they had in common was that they worked for the government. Talk about pathetic.

For both their sakes, Sam had to end it with Pete. Still, to do the dastardly deed over the holidays was as General O'Neill would say, "Wrong on so many levels, especially to a nice guy like Pete Shanahan." Yeah, O'Neill still called Pete nice guy.

Still, once Carter gave her word, she was hard pressed not to follow through. She'd said she'd fly to Denver and she would—even if it broke Cassandra's heart. Oh, brother, had she become that callous?

No doubt, her run in today with the general had thrown her another curve ball. He'd made it clear that she should put Cassandra above her love life. She'd wanted to tell him the real reason for going to Denver, but she didn't want him to know she was breaking off with Pete, yet. Considering her history with Jack O'Neill, she didn't want to put him in an uncomfortable position.

Another revelation that came from her insubordinate outburst was that maybe, the general still cared. Or did he just want to jump her bones? She certainly wanted him, always had. But was there more than physical attraction? Oh, who are you fooling, Sam. Of course, you're still carrying the torch for him.

Pete Shanahan has been a distraction with issues. She didn't even want to think about how many times he'd proposed these last few months and that each time she'd said, "No, I need more time," he said okay. Most men would have walked by now, that included General O'Neill. Then there was the fact that everyone thought she'd said yes. Another buffer between her the general. _What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. _

Sam needed to stop deceiving and start believing. She needed faith!

The unexpected beep of the automated check-in machine that denied her I.D. yanked Sam from her miserable thoughts. "Crap," she sighed and reinserted a credit card.

Once again the screen read: '_Your reservation cannot be found. Please scan again or ask an agent for assistance.'_

"Oh, fer, cryin' out loud!" Sam looked at the annoyed passengers standing behind her and whispered, "Sorry," then got in the opposite line and waited for an agent. There she handed over her I.D. and explained, "I'm booked on the six p.m. Denver flight, but your automated ticket service won't accept my card."

"No problem, ma'am. That sometimes happens." He took her I.D. scanned it then frowned. "I'm sorry, Ms Carter, but there is no reservation for you or for this flight."

"Excuse me." She dug into her purse and removed her ticket confirmation and flight printout. The agent looked it over and nodded. "I'm sure it's just a computer glitch. Give me a few minutes to rectify the situation."

Sam nodded, smiled at the scowling passenger behind her and glanced at the airport's wall clock. Holy Hannah! She had less than twenty minutes to board. She turned and glanced out the airport's glass doors. The snow flurries had grown heavier. A storm was coming. This so wasn't her lucky day.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: All I want for Christmas is You!  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8  
Pairing: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Well our favorite couple, Jack and Sam are about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, SJ shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn! But hey, this little story belongs to me.  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: The best present I could receive!

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

One honking snow and sleet storm slammed Colorado Springs. Jack hoped Carter's flight had lifted off before the weather shut down the airport. He'd been lucky to make it home without an accident. The roads were slick. Right now, he wished he'd stayed in the mountain. He could have hung with Reynolds and the skeleton crew of airmen and women working Christmas, just like the old days. It'd not be a bad time as some might think. Like Hammond, Jack made a point to deck the halls and that included plenty of Christmas fixings, and sweets while Christmas music played over the intercom.

Of course, he could call Hammond and pick up Cassandra tonight. He felt rejected that she hadn't called. Even when Janet was alive they always spent Christmas as a family. Jack's gaze settled on a photo of Charlie. His heart twisted tight and a tear warmed his cheek. Another reason he didn't want to be alone at Christmas. He'd spent too many Christmas' alone after Charlie died, miserable too boot. SG-1 changed that. But being the '_man'_ had dissolved those fun times as well. Who after all, wanted to spend Christmas with the '_man?'_ No one it seemed. At least Hammond had always had his family. Jack assumed he had family—that was until today. Did the promotion change him that much? He didn't think so, but something had definitely altered and not for the better.

Yup, home alone for Christmas, sucked. Daniel avoided Christmas like the plague, not because of religious beliefs, but because he always got melancholy about Sha're. But until now, he usually spent it with Jack. Instead, he went off world with Teal'c to visit Ishta, Ray'tac and his blushing bride, Kar'yn. Jack didn't blame Teal'c. For the first time since Jack had known the proud Jaffa, Teal'c had a reason to celebrate. He had his son back, not to mention a fiery daughter-in-law and a beautiful warrior woman who loved him. Jack was happy for the man.

And Carter . . . well, he wouldn't dwell. Nope, he'd sealed up that emotional baggage and compartmented into the dusty corner of O'Neill mental health vault. The woman he loved had flown to Denver to spend Christmas with Petra and his family. Nope, he wasn't going to dwell. In fact, he hoped she was happy as a clam . . . without him.

Jack's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller I.D., wavered then answered. "O'Neill here."

"Hi, Jack," answered a soft sensuous voice.

"Hello, Agent Johnson." Jack sat upright in the sofa.

"So, it's back to formalities, huh?"

"Um, well," his skin heated from discomfort. "Look, Kerry, I thought I explained myself last week. You're beautiful, funny, kind and intelligent. I really like you. . ."

"But?" she challenged in her CIA monotone.

"It won't work. I've got issues."

"I think we already established that, Jack," she emphasized his last name.

"And yet you called me?" he tossed back.

"Because I'm attracted to Jack O'Neill the man not the General or his issues."

Jack shut his eyes and blew out his mouth. "And I'm flattered, really. But believe me the issues aren't going away."

"I know," she said firmly. "One of those issues is that there's someone else and I know who she is."

"Wow there! Let me reiterate I'm not involved with anyone, but I'm also not into the dating scene or—"

"Who said anything about dating? We tried twice and like you said, it was awkward for you. And I'm sorry I fell asleep at the opera."

"No, that was my fault. I should have asked before buying the tickets. The opera's not everyone's bag. Besides, I haven't dated since before my marriage and I'm—"

"So let's cut to the chase shall we?"

"Okay." He'd no idea what she wanted and took a drag of beer.

"Do you agree that there's physical attraction between us."

"Yeah, I guess."_Coz, you're tall, slender and had a nice pair of twins like Carter._ But hey, he wouldn't dwell.

"Jack, you're a single man and I'm a single woman, who wants to find out if you make love as well as you kiss."

He choked! Beer shot out his mouth and nose and he made a death rattle noise.

"Jack! Are you alright?"

"Er. . .huh . . .no . . .yes." He sputtered.

"Yes to my proposition?"

Jack stood and swiped beer from his shirt and sweat pants. "Wha-at?" he bellowed as he grabbed a tissue and cleaned his chin.

"I said. . . ."

"I heard, Kerry, and as much as I appreciate the offer, I must beg off."

"But we agreed that whatever happened between us wouldn't affect the job."

"We did." He cleared his throat and flopped back onto the sofa.

"Good."

Awkward silence hung between them.

"Kerry, I really need to um, go—pee. . ." He shoved to his bare feet and hurried toward the guest bathroom. The beer had gone right through him, must be an age thing.

"I take it that's a no?" she sounded wounded.

"Afraid so." He never assumed they'd get intimate, but then Jack didn't do well when beautiful available women hit on him. He felt confused, out of his comfort zone of one Samantha Carter. Man, she'd totally ruined him for other women. "Look, um, I've got a busy, busy Christmas schedule. So, I'll see you on base after the new year."

"Sure." She paused. "You have a wonderful Christmas, Jack. But if you get lonely, you've got my number."

Did she ever give up? "Okay, bye."

"Wait!" Kerry insisted.

"What?" he tried not to sound curt, but knew he did.

"Can we be honest?"

"Um, thought we were." He entered the guest bathroom then hesitated. Peeing and talking on the phone was rude. Not that he couldn't be rude. But, the only people he ever and talked to while he peed were Teal'c, Daniel and Carter. Jack froze. Oh, crap, he talks to Carter when he's in the head! Only married people did that, right?

"Jack, you there?"

"Yeah." He danced in place, still downloading how for seven plus years he'd had phone conversations with Carter while seated on the throne. He wondered if she'd done the same. Actually, that'd make him feel better. Of course all those times off world, one of them could be in the bushes while the other stood feet away acting and talking as if such types of conversation were natural. But he wasn't going to answer nature's call talking to a woman he'd dated twice and even worse, had to face on the job next week.

"Jack, I sense that no one has confronted you about your feelings for Colonel Carter."

"Careful." He lifted the toilet seat, lowered it and backed out of the bathroom.

"I'm not blind, Jack. I've watched you together. You're as comfortable as an old married couple, but passionate as newlyweds. I see how she looks at you when you're not aware and visa versa. There's one thing I don't understand."

"Just one?"

"Is the Air Force the only thing keeping you two apart? Rules and regulations? Cos if it is, you're making a very huge mistake."

"And you know what I should do."

"Retire."

"Again?"

"Don't get me wrong. You're considered invaluable to the program by the Pentagon, but the president has appointed a civilian to run the SGC before."

"Yeah."

"Just a thought."

"Are you finished?" He expelled air through his mouth as he pondered her advice.

"Now I am. Guess we are too. Have a good life, Jack."

"Yeah, you too, Kerry." He clicked the off button, looked at the phone and shook his head. Most men would think he was nuts, but then they weren't in love with another woman. Still, he deserved happiness right, even if temporal? Temporal, so wasn't to his liking. He must be showing his age, because he'd rather drink beer and watch the Simpsons, then have a casual affair with Kerry Johnson or any other woman for that matter. Well, he did have his Playboy magazine stash. _Beggars can't be chooser, Jack._

No, he wanted the whole happily ever after deal or nothing at all. Besides, beer and Homer had become his best buds.

After he answered nature's call and changed his beer stained clothes, Jack sat in the shadows of his undecorated living room. He didn't turn on the T.V. Instead, he sulked. Quite honestly, Jack didn't sulk well. Just ask Daniel or Teal'c. He tended to withdraw, become quiet and short-tempered.

Jack drained the warm beer and opened another, flicking the cap across the room to land on the fireplace hearth by the other two caps. For a moment he watched the fire, the yellow-white flames reminding him of Colonel Carter's golden hair. Suddenly, her million watt smile and brilliant grey-blue eyes flashed before him. He could almost hear her soft laughter, that infectious giggle that made him want her so much it hurt.

It'd been almost three months since she'd shown him the engagement ring. He could still hear the sound of the black jewel box snapping shut under the force of his hand and then Sam asking, "What about you? If things had been different . . .?"

"I wouldn't be here." Yep, that was the long and the short of it. He'd be long gone because they'd have been married and Jack would have retired to become a stay-at-home-dad raising their rug rats. If only, he sighed.

Later, Jack found out from Daniel that it'd taken Sam three weeks to answer Pete's proposal. Jack assumed his silent approval had turned the tide and she'd agreed to marry Pete. Not that he'd seen the ring on her finger, but he assumed she didn't want to loss the diamond off world. Actually, he'd heard zip from anyone let alone Carter about the upcoming wedding. He only knew that it was tentatively planned for spring.

Jack reached over, opened the lamp table drawer and pulled out a black jewelry box. He took a breath then snapped it ajar. A two carat dark emerald stone set atop a band of silver. It'd been five years since he'd obtained the emerald. Well, he assumed it was an emerald. He'd come across the beautiful green stone off world at an open market a few months after his infamous 100 days on Edora. He'd been guilt ridden that he'd slept with Laira. After he realized how hard Sam had worked to bring him home, he concluded what he'd been denying so long, that he was in love with Samantha Carter.

After he purchased the rough cut emerald for a case of candy bars, Jack recruited Teal'c's assistance. The former Jaffa found an off world jewel maker and two missions later, Jack had himself an engagement ring and a set of matching wedding bands.

Of course saving the world got in the way of Jack's futuristic romantic heart and then Sam got a life named Pete Shanahan. It'd been months of suffering on Jack's part, avoiding her whenever possible or feigning a glib smile or professional bravado whenever they talked or sat at the briefing room's conference table.

Back to the crummy Christmas. His first Christmas without Carter in his view or at arm length. He'd always figured she would wait for him, for them. She hadn't. And he didn't blame her one iota. Nope. Carter was engaged. His Samantha, the woman he'd loved forever had said yes to that control freak, Pete Shanahan. Crap!

What'd ya expect old man? That she'd wait forever? That's what you get for telling her to get a life. Yep, that's exactly what you deserve for not retiring. Hell, you knew when she came back from her near death experience on the Prometheus something had drastically changed. First off, she'd called you, Jack. Right then and there you should have dropped your macho CO façade and declared your love. But no, you had to rattle on about buying her a cake for crying out loud! Doh!

He revisited the wall they'd erected between themselves since that stupid Za'tarc detector test three years back. How had they gone from wannabe lovers to cool indifference?

Jack's house phone rang. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. His answering machine kicked in.

"Jack, it's George Hammond."

Jack lifted the receiver. "Sir?"

"Drop the sir, son. We're on downtime."

"Sure, George. Whatsup?"

"Well, I've bad news."

"Oh." His stomach hit the floor. "As in?"

"The girls and their mother have got the flu. And Cassandra is in the bathroom as we speak."

"But she got her influenza shot at the infirmary last month."

"Not that strain of flu, son."

"Crap."

"Yeah, that goes along with this twenty-four hour bug. Nasty strain that hits the lower G.I. track like a runaway locomotive."

"Are you okay, George?"

"For the time being. From what I've seen it comes without warning, so I figure I'm next."

"I'm sorry. Tell Cassandra to take care, drink plenty of fluids and that I love her. Guess, we'll see how she's doing tomorrow morning." Jack felt bummed.

"I will. Got another call coming in, son. Goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight, George."

Jack looked at the receiver then hung it up. That sucked! He no sooner settled back and taken another swig of beer when his cellphone rang. Probably Cassandra, the poor kid.

"Hey, babe, how ya doing?" He pressed the speaker.

"Sir?" She hesitated.

Whoops! He brought the receiver to his ear. "Carter?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry to disturb you, but my flight got canceled. I was driving home and skidded into a ditch a few blocks from you and . . ."

"You okay?" He sat upright with concern. "No broken bones, concussion—?"

"No, I'm fine, just stuck in two feet of ice glazed snow and wishing I'd stayed home."

That got Jack's attention.

"I called General Hammond, but the flu hit the family and . . ."

"Yeah, we just chatted. Chill, Carter. I'm on my way. I'll call from my cell for directions."

"Okay. Thanks and be careful. The roads are black ice. It's horrible out here, sir."

"Will do." Jack hung up, smiling. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad Christmas after all.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Carter's new Ford Mustang was buried past its rear bumper just off the freeway with dozens of other vehicles. The drive to her location had been an obstacle course. Cars slipped and slid in all six lanes. Jack felt as if he were in a fire storm of Jaffa. It took an hour to reach her and he was grateful she'd not been injured. Sam shared that her luggage had been checked in and was on the plane. Everything remained tied up in red tape. All she had was her carryon with an extra pair of unmentionables. Jack attempted to drive to her house that was less than ten minutes from his, but they hit three detours and rerouted traffic.

"Guess you're crashing at my place, Carter."

"Guess so." She smiled then gazed out the passenger's window at the angry night.

It took forty-five minutes to drive three flipping miles. Once home, Jack parked the truck in his garage. They'd no sooner clambered out of the ice covered vehicle, when Sam's cell chimed the theme song from Peter Pan. Jack felt relieved it wasn't, "We're off to see the Wizard."

"Hi," she answered too familiar for his liking. Sam smiled and mouthed, "Pete."

"Ah." Jack hedged a smile then opened the garage's house door into the kitchen. Sam followed talking to Pete.

"I told you all flights are cancelled. Don't you watch CNN?"

Jack imagined Pete sounded like one of those annoying adult voices on the Peanuts cartoons, "Blah, blah, blah . . ."

"I slid into a ditch. Yes, I called road service, but all the towing trucks are on emergency calls. And I wasn't about to sit in the car for hours. Thankfully, General O'Neill—"

Sam went silent. Jack switched on the kitchen's light then heard Sam snort. Her voice lowered, but Jack picked up most of her remarks.

"Oh, for crying out loud, will you settle down. I'm perfectly safe here. . . ."

"Blah, blah . . ."

"Pete, I told you I couldn't leave before today. I was off world all week and no, he can't use alien technology to transport me to your parent's house."

"Well, actually. . ." Jack said over his shoulder with a brow waggle.

Sam gently slugged him between the shoulder blades.

Cool. Just like old times. Still, whatever Pete said caused Sam's fair complexion to flare.

"Look, I don't need you carping about something I've no control over. Tell your family I'm truly sorry I missed Christmas and . . . No I'm not going back to the airport and wait on standby when I can do that here. I know I missed the six p.m. flight. You've no idea what it took to convince the airline that I had a reser— Hey, don't you dare suggest I . . ." Sam's voice pitched.

Jack decided to give her privacy. As he entered the dining room, he heard, "You want to believe I did this on purpose, fine! Oh, and Pete, Merry Christmas."

"Sweet!" Jack's right hand pumped the air.

"Sir, did you say something?" Carter called out.

"Nope."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Title: All I want for Christmas is You!  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8  
Pairing: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Our favorite couple Jack and Sam are about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, S/J shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn! But hey, this little story belongs to me.  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: The best present I could receive!

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Nope? Sam smiled at the retreating backside of her CO. The most recent memory that came to mind of Jack O'Neill's pat, "Nope," response was when he'd gone invisible two years ago. All Sam could say about those long two weeks was that the Tok'ra armbands didn't hold a candle to one invisible Jack O'Neill. Talk about a loose cannon. He was so high on invisibility that Sam feared the fatal demise of the character in the movie, 'The Invisible Man,' would befall Colonel O'Neill, because if she, Daniel and Teal'c didn't kill him first, General Hammond would have.

Anyways, the day before Sam figured out how to return Jack to visible, she'd caught him peeping in the women's shower room. And mind you, it's not like she saw or heard him. Over the years she acquired a sixth sense where Jack O'Neill was concerned. She always knew when he was about.

In the colonel's defense, the men and women shared the same shower room. The point was that she'd had the 'WOMEN ONLY' sign hung on the locker room door. And did she mention she'd been singing, "If I Only Had a Brain," but couldn't remember the last stanza.

After catching him in the act, Sam yanked the shower curtain shut and verbally ripped Colonel O'Neill another rectum, while smiling.

And still he had the gall to reply, "Major, does Dad know you talk like a tobacco chewing truck driver?"

"Sir, I'm counting to five and you better be gone!" she retorted.

"Fine. And for the record the last stanza goes like this, _"__I would not be just a nuffin' My head all full of stuffin', My heart all full of pain. I would dance and be merry, Life would be a ding-a-derry, If I only had a brain--Whoa!"_

Stifling laughter, Sam turned off the water and heard the exterior locker room door shut. It took her four hours to hunt down Colonel Invisible and to this day, no one else knew what he'd done. Of course, he apologized profusely, swearing he'd just finished dressing when she had entered. He also swore he didn't see anything he hadn't seen before . . . of her, that is. Sam blushed, because over the past eight years he had probably seen every inch of her. Sam smiled. Another Hallmark moment with the man she loved.

Any other female officer would have charged him with behavior unbecoming an officer. The thought never crossed her mind. Probably because he did the one thing most men wouldn't do when caught in the act, Jack O'Neill confessed with one simple word. "Nope."

Pete's cell phone ring tone shrilled. Sam shut it off. She'd never presumed he would act so childish. She assumed he'd be relieved she was safe. Instead, he was angry because she'd not caught an earlier flight or flown out yesterday. She never got to explain about her reservations being sucked into a black hole or that Cassandra was sick. And he went ballistic when she explained how General O'Neill had come to her aid.

"Of all the people you know, Sam, why call O'Neill!" Pete demanded.

Why? Well, because he was the first person to cross her mind and she wasn't about to drag anyone else out in this precarious weather. But the General, well, she'd known he'd be there for her. He always was.

What got Sam's goat was how Pete implied there was more to her calling the General than a ride to safety. Pete's insecurity was valid. While held hostage on the Al' kesh Sam took inventory and had a reality check, the first conscious admission in months that she still loved Jack O'Neill. So now what?

Shrugging out of her wet coat and boots she entered Jack's hallway and glanced into the sunken living room where he'd hunkered down to stoke the fire. A whiff of burning wood tickled her senses. Sam crossed into the guest bathroom, shut the door and blew her nose. When she lifted her head, she saw the frightful sight that the general had been looking at the last while. Melted snow and perspiration plastered her fine hair to her head and her running eye mascara blotted pale lids and cheekbones. She looked like the walking dead. Well, he'd seen her far worse over the years. After some preening, Sam padded stocking foot into the kitchen. There the General was whistling 'Silver Bells' while he tossed empty beer bottles into his recycle bin. Behind him, the coffeemaker perked fresh coffee. A smile of appreciation tugged her lips.

"Thanks, sir."

"For what, Carter?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Being here for me."

"Hey, always," he turned his silver head and delivered his dimpled smile. "Um, I assume you called Cassie."

"Yes. I also talked to General Hammond. Cass is running a slight fever and eating crackers with the rest of the family. Still, he offered to come after me, but," she looked away and flinched.

"Hey, that's fine. I'm flattered you called. Just wish we could have picked up Cass before she got sick and the weather turned foul."

"Me too." She sighed. "But then we'd no doubt catch whatever she's got and all be fighting over the bathroom."

"True. At least I've two of them." He smirked.

Sam nodded and hugged herself.

"So, hungry?"

"Famished." She held his dark brown eyes, wondering what he actually was thinking.

"Sweet. Glad I hit the grocery store before I came home."

Sam noted the items still on the counter then poked her head into the refrigerator. "Be still my heart! You've got real food and no algae coated salsa."

"Funny! And that perfectly good salsa got trashed last year."

"Too bad, you could have fed it to Anubis." She giggled.

"Now you tell me!" He laughed and delivered his trademark dimpled smirk. Sam's heart skidded to a halt. It'd been ages since she'd been on the receiving end of that intimate smile that she'd always felt was hers alone.

"So." He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze. "You going to defrost my frig or what?"

"Whoops. Sorry." She shut the door and took a step forward. "Um, sorry about that too." She pointed to where her phone set on the central work center.

"Huh?"

"My exchange with Pete, he's usually very understanding."

"Of course he is. I can't imagine you being with someone who didn't treat you right, Carter. Level three hand-to-hand combat, not to mention you've got one sharp set of canines." He shook the hand that she'd once bitten. Sam noted spots of red in his tanned cheeks. "You deserve more than a safe bet, Carter, you deserve the best," his voice cracked as he directed traffic with his hands.

Safe bet? Where had she heard him say that before? The Prometheus. But that'd been a hallucination, right?

Jack barged into her thoughts. "You are after all, a national treasure."

"So, you've repeatedly said, sir." Honored and embarrassed by his compliment, Sam shook her head not taking it seriously.

"And I'll say it again, you, Carter, are a national treasure and . . ." His gaze softened. Sam swore to see moisture in his dark eyes. "Besides God, I don't know anyone else who ever blew up a sun, let alone escaped from the bowels of hell. . . "

"Please, sir?" Frustration lilted her voice and she raised a hand to stop him.

"Fine, I'll shut up." He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and bounced on the balls of his wet boots. Sam reflected how easily this fifty year old kick-ass flyboy could be so childlike. Another thing she loved about him. Spotting the puddle of melted snow at his feet, Jack removed his boots, set them on a rug by the backdoor and cleaned up the water with paper toweling.

Sam struggled for conversation. "Um, it's nice that you offered to have Cassandra spend Christmas with you until I got back."

"No problem. Actually, I'm still surprised she didn't opt to go with you to Denver. Even I'd rather spend time with you than with myself." He winced.

"Um, aren't we being redundant, sir?" Sam felt annoyed.

"Well, now that we're officially of the clock, we can talk about Cassandra."

"She didn't want to go to Denver and I'm not about to force her, sir. She and Pete still don't get along."

"Yeah, I figured that much," he said with a dour look.

"She told you?"

Jack looked as if she had grown two heads. "Sure. Ya know Cass, she doesn't hold back about what she thinks or feels." He paused. His handsome face scrunched as he sought to articulate his thoughts, a look she'd long come to understand. Sam's heart dropped into her stomach. "Carter, I don't know how to say this tactfully. Mind you, this is just my opinion, which isn't worth much . . ."

"Say what's on your mind, sir." Sam straightened her shoulders and awaited his tongue lashing.

"Janet hasn't been gone very long. Cass has not adjusted to bouncing between our homes. And this being her senior year of high school has been hard for her."

"That I know, sir."

"Then I assume she told you, she's decided not to attend college come next fall."

"No." Sam blanched. "I don't understand. I know she'd yet to decide which school, but she's been accepted into Harvard and Yale."

"She's not ready. Cass needs to know we're here for her. She's afraid to be away from home. She needs stability and normalcy."

Heat rushed Sam's neck and face. "Are you implying that I'm not stable or normal?"

Jack donned his ridiculous deer caught in car's headlight look. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sir." Sam stalked toward him.

"I'm just saying. . . ." He winced as she got in his face.

"Define normal, sir."

Glaring back Jack worked his jaw. He was angry. So was she.

"Carter, neither of our lives is normal," he hung quotes marks in the air. "Nor is Cass's. She's an alien for crying out loud. Add to that abnormality that your fiancé' is living with you and—."

"Pete is not living with me! He never stays overnight and . . ." Well, other than our first night together, she silently confessed.

"Really?" Jack made a dubious face.

"Yes, really!" Sam clenched her fists against her thighs.

"So, Sam, those weekends when Cass stays with me and you go to Denver, I assume you stay at his place, or are you a good girl and get a hotel room with a single bed?" He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms and stared at her with his stoic unreadable face.

"How dare you stick your nose into my personal life," she accused.

"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em, Samantha." He snorted. "Believe me, if Cass wasn't a part of the equation, I could give a rat's ass who, what or where you sleep! Let's face it now a day most of the human race sleeps together before marriage and not necessarily with someone they want to marry. I thought you were different. Guess I was wrong."

"Why you jackass!"

Sam's right hand arced toward his fury tensed face. Jack seized her wrist and pulled her against him. His other hand griped her arm, preventing her from breaking free. Chocolate eyes fused with blue eyes. Jack's leanness pressed into her belly. That so wasn't his sidearm.

She felt strongly in-tune to their joint passion, a passion barely held in check. Besides, this afternoon, the last time he had touched was that day on base before Ry'ac and Kar'yn's wedding.

Sam's fury lessoned. Jack's fingers pressed into her flesh. His touch warmed the skin under her sweater. She tilted her head and looked at him like when the force field separated them on Apophis' mother ship. What she saw in his intense gaze touched the core of her soul. He was angry and hurt. This wasn't about her having sex with Pete. No, this was far deeper and intimate.

"What do you want?" She needed to know.

"For you to be happy, Sam," he said in a husky whisper of defeat.

"But I am happy." She chocked out the lie.

"Well, there ya go." His vexed look replaced by acceptance, Jack brought an open hand to her face, almost touching her. She saw his confusion, indecision. She wanted him to care more than he should, wanted him to take back his spiteful words and declare his love. He did neither. Jack took a step back, exhaled and scrubbed a hand through his short silver-gray hair.

"Look, Carter. I'm not judging. I don't understand why Janet left Cassandra in our care, but she did. Cass is emotionally fragile and I'm sorry that she doesn't like Pete. I wish she did, because that'd make matters a lot easier for all concerned."

"I know."

"Then you know that when you marry Pete, she's moving in with me full time?"

Sam felt as if someone had gut punched her.

"Yeah, I figured she'd said squat." He winced and looked away.

"She can't," Sam said without a fight in her voice, wanting to tell him that she wasn't going to marry Pete. Pride held her back.

"When Cass turns eighteen next April she can then do whatever." He shrugged. "I told her to give it time, get to know Pete, but she's headstrong ya know."

"You told her she could live with you?"

He gave his 'doh' look. "Of course."

"Man, I've really messed up, sir." Sam dropped into a kitchen chair and shook her head.

"No, you haven't." Jack touched her shoulder. "You were dating Pete before Janet died. You'd no way to know. . ." He cleared his throat. "Janet's death has affected us all, especially Cassandra. First, she lost her birth mother, then Janet and now she's afraid she's losing you to Pete. Cassandra loves you, Sam. She had wanted you to adopt her, not Janet."

Sam knew. Also that Cass had wanted Jack to adopt her, to be her father. It'd been difficult to explain to an eleven-year old child that Sam and Jack couldn't marry, let alone adopt her because of their military obligations. What few people didn't know was that when together, Cassandra called Jack, dad. Although jealous, Sam couldn't deny Cassandra who never knew her birth father, the experience of having someone love her like a father. Janet, forever unselfish, condoned the father daughter relationship. Sam now realized she'd Jack what an excellent father figure he was to Cassandra. He proved to be generous, loving, while discipline wise, far stricter than Sam or Janet. Cassandra loved him.

Jack set two black coffee mugs on the work center. "Sam, we're all Cass has left. We're her family. She wanted us together for Christmas, including Daniel and Teal'c. Too bad Pete asked you to spend Christmas with his family."

Asked? How about insisted? Worse, Sam had conceded. This was her fault. She recalled Cass's reaction when she first dated Pete. Cass had called Sam a traitor and that she would break Jack's heart. They'd gotten into a terrible argument and Cass had run away from Janet's and over to Jack's house. Janet had been furious with Sam.

The last thing Sam expected from her best girlfriend was for Janet to take Cass's side. Until then, Janet rarely pried into Sam's love life or lack there of. Since the revealing Za'tarc test, Janet knew about Jack and Sam mutual feelings. The SCG's CMO remained respectful and like Cass presumed that one day Sam and Jack would have a romantic relationship.

Meanwhile, Jack had made every attempt to avoid the touchy issue with Cassandra. So, Cass got further incensed by Jack's response, which included telling Cass to let Sam be. When Cass told Sam, that Jack was glad she'd gotten a life, Sam's last shred of hope to ever be with him, vanished and she pursued Pete with a vengeance. And what had it gained her, a daughter who hated her.

Today over the noon hour, Sam dropped Cass off at General Hammond's house or as Cass called him, Uncle George. The general had flown home from D.C. to be with his daughter and grand-daughters. The girls were two years younger than Cassandra. The three teens had grown close over the years.

As usual, she and Cass argued. This time Sam hadn't pushed the teenage girl to go with her. After all, Sam had planned to break off with Pete and fly back home. Too bad she'd not told Cass or anyone else for that matter. Pride cometh before the fall. . . .

Cass had wanted to be with Jack from the start, but with all the intergalactic chaos he didn't want her home alone if he got stuck at the SGC. In fact, when Sam had left base this afternoon, he'd been at his desk buried in paperwork. Thus, she'd been surprised when she'd called the SGC and found he'd gone home, shortly after she left. Still, he'd not been off base eight days. General O'Neill deserved alone time. He had to be burnt out. At that thought, Sam felt guilty that she'd called him. It now made sense that Cass would spend today with the Hammonds and then Jack would keep her until Sam returned from Denver next week.

Sam was selfish to put Pete above Cassandra. Cass was family. Family didn't leave anyone behind. More importantly, Jack had gone out of his way to accommodate Sam's love life. She knew he'd wanted SG-1 to spend Christmas together, especially because it'd be Cass's first Christmas without Janet. Sam wanted to kick herself. Shivering she chaffed her cold arms.

"I've got a warm sweater you could wear." Jack smiled and she was relieved he'd dropped the matter of Cass, at least for now.

"Thanks, that'd be nice."

"Excellent. One warm sweater coming up."

Sam's gaze perused the display of framed photos on the archway between the living room and dinning area. The family picture of him, Sara and Charlie was no longer displayed, although a few pictures of Charlie and one of Jack and him fishing from the cabin's dock remained. Another photo of Charlie in a Christmas pageant, dressed as a Wiseman. Charlie wore a mischievous dimpled grin. A grin, Sam knew all to well.

Sam's gaze drifted to several photos of SG-1, including one of her alone. It'd been taken by Daniel after she'd been promoted to Major. Sam smiled at the memory. Daniel had taken several pictures that day. The last one, Jack stood alongside her in his dress blues, looking proud while holding up two fingers behind her head. Sam had been clueless. He was such a kid at times.

Her attention refocused on the photos of Jack with Charlie. Sam's heart ached for Jack's loss and for the love she saw between father and son. Sam felt Jack's observant attention.

"He looked just like you, sir."

"Yeah, the poor kid," Jack said with a roll of his eyes.

"You still miss him?" Talk about a stupid question. The next words she expected to hear were, "_Can we not talk about that."  
_

"Always, especially now. Christmas was his favorite holiday." Hands shoved into his jean pockets Jack glanced at the picture of Charlie as a Wiseman. "This was taken at our church's Christmas Eve pageant. He wanted to play Joseph."

"Why?"

"Coz, as he put it, 'Joseph stands there and does nothing. I can do nothing really well, Dad.'" Jack shook his head.

"Like father like son, huh?" She met his gaze which to her relief held a smile.

"Yeah sure yabetcha." He stood so near that his warm breath tickled face. An awkward moment followed. Sam's heart raced and her mouth went dry. Jack cleared his throat and brandished a hand in the direction of his bedroom. "Um, I should go get that sweater, huh?"

"Thanks." She inhaled his used air. The room spun or was it her heart?

Jack just stepped up into the hallway when a loud cracking noise followed a strong thud onto the house roof. The power went out leaving them in pitch darkness. "What the . . . !" He raced to the front door and Sam followed, almost colliding with him when he halted. "Holy buckets!" He stared out the foyer window. Two large trees had crashed from the weight of the ice. One tree hit the front of Jack's house, and blocked his garage and front door, while the second covered the length of his driveway to the main road. A downed power line lied across the street. The entire neighborhood had lost power. Except for the fireplace's soft glow the house was pitch black.

"Stay put," Jack ordered as he removed a flashlight from the hallway table's drawer.

"Sir, you're not going out there?"

"Nope, got a generator in the garage." He headed for the kitchen.

"Okay." She walked down into the sunken living room and waited by the warm fireplace.

A minute later the lights flickered then died. Sam heard the loud hum of the generator.

The refrigerator's motor kicked in, so did the coffeemaker. Flashlight in hand, Jack ambled out of the kitchen.

"The good news is the house has electric heat. So I switched the emergency power to the essentials and the heating coil on the water pipes. Don't need those freezing up."

"And the bad news?"

"No heat. I'm low on diesel for the generator. We have to be prudent." He rubbed his hands together. "However the stove and oven are gas. We can cook and bake."

"Candles?" She met him in the hallway.

"Yup." He hurried toward the kitchen then bumped into a cabinet. "Dang!" he muttered, raising a smile on Sam's lips. Jack returned with an armful of large candles.

Looking at his stash Sam's brows hiked into her hairline. "Why, sir, you've been holding out on me."

"Um, I keep them around for Teal'c." She thought to see him wince. "He still likes to meditate."

"Right." She took a few candles from his hands.

"Honest," he argued lightly.

"I think you doth protest too much, sir."

"And I think I've lost this battle." He chuckled then set and lit the candles through out the main rooms. Sam followed suit with three candles and placed one in the half-bathroom. Within moments the house held a warm ambiance of candle and fire light. Romantic, if she dared go there, which for now she didn't.

Jack disappeared into the shadows of the hallway with his flashlight. With nothing to do, she decided to be the bigger person and apologize to Pete. She dialed her cell phone and heard, "We're sorry all lines are busy, please hang up and try again." She redialed three times before the phone went dead. Great, the nearest cell tower was also down for the count. Her thoughts swung to Cassandra. She hoped Cass and the Hammonds were okay. She picked up Jack's landline phone but got a busy signal. Crap! For now she could only send a prayer heavenward that all was well.

Crap? Man, she'd been doing that a lot lately, talking or thinking like her commander . . . um, Jack. She thought to retrieve her laptop from the truck, then refrained since the cable was probably down.

Jack returned with an extra-large wool sweater. "This should warm you up." Before Sam could reply he headed for the kitchen. "Make yourself comfy while I'll fix some chow and coffee."

"Let me help," she offered.

"Chill, Carter, no need for both of us, banging our shins in the dark. Besides, last time you cooked, I got food poisoning."

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!" She defended. "Daniel bought the mushrooms."

"I'm kidding. Go warm up. That's an order."

"Yes, sir." Sam sadly realized they'd transitioned back to the safe zone of military protocol and she couldn't help wonder about what if they hadn't. What if they agreed to take it out of the room and talk heart to heart? What then?

"Hey, we're friends, right?" Jack poked his gray head around the corner wearing his boyish expression.

"Always, sir." She hedged a smile.

"Sweet. So, my last order of the day is no formal address. I'm Jack, you're Sam."

"Sir . . ." Her heart raced. What was he implying? "Do you think that's wise?"

"Nah!" He wagged a finger. "Don't think so hard. Besides, I pull rank, Saa. . .mantha."

"If you say so, Si—Jack." She felt her cheeks burn.

"I do." He winked then strolled off, only to return with a cup of coffee that he set on the table then returned to the kitchen.

Smiling more than she should, Sam tugged the oversized black wool sweater over her head. It was so long the hem grazed her thighs and she had to roll up the longer sleeves. Sam forgot how Jack's leanness downplayed his large frame. Sam sniffed the sweater and inhaled Jack O'Neill. Sam's legs trembled and blood rushed to her face. Oh, man! She decided to drink that coffee.

Sam glanced outside and saw white. Sixty mile an hour winds and freezing rain hammered Jack's cozy house. After drinking her coffee, she curled up on the sofa to briefly shut her eyes. Sam jolted awake, straightened and stretched her legs. Bacon sizzled, eggs cracked. The delicious aroma made her stomach growl with anticipation. Sam stood and peered through the dining room into the kitchen where candlelight flickered.

Jack looked at home. Well, he was after all, home. Odd, how this domestic side of Jack O'Neill entertained and calmed her. A Jack of all trades. She grinned. Contrary to popular belief, the man didn't have a housekeeper. He cut his lawn, gardened, cooked and cleaned. Sam's thoughts flittered to Pete. Months back when his parents were coming to meet Sam she'd asked him to clean the guest bathroom and toilet. He almost had a bird.

"I don't do women duties, Sam, but for you I'll make this exception."

Exception? Excuse me? Surely he'd been kidding. Nope. Sam had been so insulted she'd whacked him over the head with the toilet brush. That made him mad. The man had no sense of humor. Now, if she'd hit Jack O'Neill with a toilet brush it would have lead to some serious fun, romantic even. Oh stop it, Sam! You did everything but ask him to stop you from marrying Pete. All he said was, "I wouldn't be here." What did that mean? He's apparently over you, Carter, and you should be over him. So move on, marry Pete. But you won't. You can't marry a man aren't in love with.

"Hey, you like your eggs over easy, right?" Jack interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, thanks." He remembered.

Sam glanced about the comfortable surroundings trying to ignore that like her house, Jack's was void of decorations. Then of course, with Anubis knocking at the gate neither had anytime to decorate, let alone get in the Christmas spirit. Detailed orientated, she noted the end table's drawer ajar and reached to shut it. Something got her attention. Sam opened the drawer and removed a black ring box similar to the one Pete gave her.

Sam worried her lower lip. A gift for Cassandra? Jack loved spoiling her, especially with fine jewelry. He had excellent taste. Then again, this was the same man who one day wore baggy blue jeans with rolled cuffs, and the next day a four thousand dollar Armani dress suit. Yeah, the same man who loathed dress blues and wore wrinkled BDU shirts with the sleeves rammed up his tan forearms. A constant contradiction.

Sam rubbed her fingers over the soft velvet box. It wasn't her nature to snoop, especially where her CO was concerned. Still, how much harm could a quick peek do? After she glanced over her shoulder, Sam lifted the lid.

Her jaw dropped. Holy cow! She fingered the exquisite princess-cut emerald. No way was this for Cassandra. This emerald cost Jack serious bucks. Dear heaven, he was seeing someone. After all, he'd answered the phone, "Hey, babe, how ya doing?" Not exactly the greeting of a single man.

Sam's stomach ached. She racked her mind for a face and name, but only one woman came to mind, CIA agent Kerry Johnson. Jack and agent Johnson had spent a lot of time together the last two months. And Sam knew how the pretty redhead looked and behaved around 'General O'Neill.' Way too familiar and flirtatious. Worse, Jack liked it.

Upon several occasions, Sam had tried to speak one-on-one with Agent Johnson before or after they were scheduled for a conference. Johnson had been assigned to the SGC to hunt down Goa'uld symbiotes that might have taken human hosts on Earth. Because of their encounter while in a small town of Oregon last year, Sam and Teal'c were included in the initial discussions. Since then, Jack regularly met with Johnson behind his office's closed door with orders for Walter not to be disturbed. Sam knew, because she'd made a few attempts to talk with the general during some of those crucial meetings and got snubbed.

Then there were the times she'd seen them in the mess hall together, laughing, sitting way too close for a professional relationship.

Sam shut her eyes and attempted to wrap her head around the obvious.

Her hands turned cold.

Her limbs trembled.

Bitter bile rose in her throat.

All data pointed to one hypothesis.

Holly Hannah!

Jack was having an affair with Kerry Johnson!

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Title: All I want for Christmas is You!  
Author: HailDorothy  
Spoilers: S7, S8  
Characters: Jack/Sam, Sam/Pete – sort of  
Summary: AU. There's an old saying, "Never assume anything, coz it makes an ass out of you and me." Well our favorite couple, Jack and Sam are about to learn that hard lesson and the true reason for the Christmas season. Merry Christmas, shippers!  
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 never was and never will be mine. Darn! But hey, this little story belongs to me.  
No beta: Put the blame for typos and other errors of judgment on me.  
Feedback: The best present I could receive!

**_READERS: I want to thank everyone for reading, especially those who took the time to submit reviews. Each review encouraged me to finish this Christmas story of Jack and Sam. I know more could be expanded upon but alas, life beckons and this is the last and completed chapter for 'All I Want for Christmas is You.' _**

**_I look forward to hearing from you. __  
_**

**_God bless us one and all! _**

**_HailDorothy - Christmas 2007 _**

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Okay, get a grip!" Sam said louder than intended.

"What?" Jack called from the kitchen.

"Um, nothing," she stared at the ring box in her unsteady hands.

"Hey, how 'bout we eat by the fire?"

"Okay." Sam closed the case and returned it to the end-table's drawer before he entered the living room.

While Jack brought out TV trays and then their plates Sam summoned composure, and failed. Tears welled. Worse, he didn't camp in his leather chair, but settled alongside her on the sofa, so close their arms brushed. Talk about an electrical charge. Sam was about to explode.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Alone with Carter!

Jack was about to explode.

This was the first time in eons that they'd been totally alone. He'd no idea how to behave. The easy copout was to be the '_man_,' but being her CO was part of the problem, not the solution. He'd sacrifice his Simpson DVD collection to recapture the good old days when they wanted nothing more than to be in this situation--alone. Once they had a comfort zone that went beyond words, when a casual touch or look communicated how they felt about each other. Although, not once in eight years had the L word passed their lips they'd known they were in love. Screw the regs, screw the mutual acceptance that they'd never have anything more than what they had now. Nada. Nothing.

Somehow, he had to find the right tactical maneuver, the right words to express how he felt. Let's be honest, Carter's engaged to another man, so what's there to lose but your dignity, old man, which you lost long ago where she's concerned.

The last time he'd made a fool of himself over Samantha Carter was when the President's CIA undercover slim ball, Mark Gilmor, became Jack's assistant. Jack swore he'd seen Walter do the jig. That'd been one hellish week. SG-1 had presumably been abducted by Ba'al, Doctor Lee recreated Audrey II of Little Shop of Horrors, while Jack baby-sat two feuding delegates from the planet Arma. Where in the stars was Arma anyway? And did he mention the President had a scheduled visit and Walter couldn't find matching colored buntings?

Worried that Sam was either a hostage or dead, Jack found it hard to focus on his overflowing plate of responsibilities. He kept thinking of all the things he'd never said to her, specifically, "I love you."

It didn't take him long to deduce he was unfit to manage the S.G.C. So he wrote a formal letter of resignation to General Hammond and a letter of unrequited love to Carter. For the better part of that week, both documents set side-by-side on his laptop while he continued to tweak them, especially the one to Carter. Of course, after SG-1 safely returned and everything died to an acceptable simmer just who happened to be in his office staring at his laptop with her wide azure eyes? Carter.

His heart lodged in his throat, Jack walked over and hit the screensaver key. But by the shocked look on his Lieutenant Colonel's adorable pale face, she'd read enough to warrant the question, "Sir, with all due respect are you resigning?" She looked him straight on with such intensity that he almost had the big one.

"No, Carter, I'm not resigning . . ." He sat down in his leather chair with an air of coolness he didn't feel, then said with his aggravated CO voice, "And when did I give you permission to read my private correspondences?"

"I—I wasn't reading them, sir." Circles of red dotted her ivory complexion. "You said you wished to speak with me before I left base. However, I inadvertently did notice your letter of resignation to General Hammond." She pointed to the printed form on his desk, "Not what is on your laptop, General O'Neill, sir."

"Ah." Jack's erratic heart beat leveled out. She hadn't read his love letter. Thank you, God! "For the record, I'm not going anywhere, Carter." Now that you're safe and I've put out a dozen fires, he reflected dismally. Jack picked up the resignation letter on which he'd scribbled, 'Never mind,' scrunched the paper into a wad and tossed it in the wastebasket. And he scores! If only.

"That's a relief, sir. So what did you want to discuss?"

Jack's mouth opened then shut like a goldfish. Dang if he knew. He'd just wanted to see her, talk to her and assure himself she was okay. "Um, nothing that can't wait until Monday, Carter." He tapped his fingers on the desk's oak top and avoided her curious expression.

"You're sure?" she didn't sound convinced and had come to stand alongside him.

Jack pushed to his feet, closing the distance. He had to say something, but what? "Carter, do you ever um, miss the old days?" His hands directed traffic.

"As in?" she wasn't making this easy.

"As in being in the field together? Working side by side?" He held her blue gaze while his heart spoke of something deeper.

Sam stared at her boots then slowly raised her blonde head. "Always, sir. I mean, I miss the personal interaction, especially between you and Daniel," she covered herself nicely. "I miss how you would constantly annoy each other and entertain Teal'c and myself." She smiled.

Jack flinched. She knew darn well that's not what he'd meant. "Yup, me too," he drawled and chastely caressed her cheek that felt soft and warm beneath his calloused palm.

"A lot has changed, sir." Sam's right hand curled innocently over his. "We've changed."

"We have?" he asked cryptically.

"Yes. I—," she looked into his perplexed gaze, "assumed this was what you wanted, sir?"

"Well, ya know that to assume anything makes asses out of you and me," he said with a glib expression.

"Sir?" she looked at him with those deep searching eyes that left him speechless.

"Lack of sleep talking," he clarified. "Go home, Colonel." He dropped his hand but hers followed, their fingers loosely intertwined. "I'm just glad, you kids, got back safe, is all." He gave her a reassuring squeeze then let go. "I'm sure you and Pete have plans for the weekend." Just shoot me, he thought.

"Actually, no." she confessed. "I am exhausted, so I'll probably sleep and catch up on some reading."

"Here too, the sleeping part that is." He made an informal gesture of dismissal. Sam walked toward the door.

"Um, sir?"

"Mm." He stared at the avalanche of folders on his desk.

Sam glanced back. "Doctor Lee, Walter and Silar gave me a summary of everything that happened while SG-1 was stuck on P2X-887. Sounds like it was a rough go here for awhile."

Jack hadn't wanted her to know the details, but the cat was out of the bag. "No big deal, Carter, we've been in similar situations before."

"Not like that," she corrected. "Oh, and that was a genius maneuver with Camulus and the dead Z.P.M." She smiled approval.

He grinned. "Yes, I am rather proud of that slight of hand."

"Still," she turned serious, "I wouldn't have blamed you for wanting to resign. But I am happy that you changed your mind."

"Hey, if you're happy I'm happy." Crap, did those words tumble past his lips?

Thankfully, she didn't seem notice. "I don't know what I'd do without you here watching our backs, sir."

"Oh, you'd do just fine, Carter." He reassured with a sincere smile. "You always do."

This time Sam donned the goldfish expression, but as she turned to leave, he heard her say, "Not without you, Jack."

Soon as she left, Jack clicked open the document he'd written to her, _"My dear Samantha, if you're reading this letter it's because one of two scenarios took place. Scenario one; You died . . . Okay, guess you wouldn't be reading this then, huh? Or scenario two; I resigned from the Air Force. Let's hope for the latter. _

"_So, I'm telling you this because after eight years of self-inflicted misery, I've taken it out of the room with the hope that there's a chance you still care for me more than your CO and friend. And that God willing, we might have a future together. Sam, I am in love with you, always have been . . ." _

Crap! That had to be the most pathetic piece of bull shit he'd ever written! His eyes misting Jack hit the delete key, shut down his pc and left base. He hoped O'Malley's was still open because he needed a stiff drink.

JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

Now four months later, he was at long last alone with Carter and scared to death. He felt like a teenager on his first date. He kept reminding himself he was a fifty three year old man with an enormous crush on a younger woman—who was in love with another man. Talk about not having a snowball's chance in Ne'tu. _Let's be serious, Jack, what do you have to offer this beautiful, intelligent woman, that Pepto can't give her twofold?_

While cooking their late night breakfast he'd racked his brain on how to take '_it_' out of the room. No one knew how thrilled he had been when she called him and when the downed trees took out the power and blocked his garage. It seemed as if God Almighty had answered his prayer. For all intensive purposes they were stranded off world. He prayed this lasted long enough for them to talk. Most of all, he hoped it wasn't too late. But the only way he'd find out was to try.

"You okay?" he chewed a strip of turkey bacon, realizing he had no appetite.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Excellent." Sam toyed with her over-easy eggs. This was the lousiest day of her life. Was this how Jack felt that day in the elevator when she admitted to dating Pete? Man, she'd been such a cold fish. She wouldn't blame him if he never forgave her. After all, she'd broken their unspoken commitment to wait for each other.

Now other than the occasional crackle from the wood burning in the fireplace, the silence between them seemed deafening. Jack's fork clattered against his plate and he blew out his mouth. "Okay, spill. What'sup?" He wore that doggedly expression that meant he would not settle for anything but the truth.

"Nothing." She feigned a smile and forced a forkful of egg into her mouth.

"Sorry the yoke's overcooked." He engaged a softer approach.

"The food's great, really. You're an excellent cook, have exquisite taste. . . ." She thought about the beautiful emerald ring and one lucky Kerry Johnson.

"Exquisite taste you say?" he scratched his head and donned his d'oh face. "Sam, what I said about Cass and Shanahan. I shouldn't have. You deserve to marry the guy. He obviously loves you and you love him. Cass will just have to deal. I'll have a serious talk with her tomorrow."

"No!"

"Huh?" His black brows shot into his hairline.

"I mean, I don't want you talking to her about this, sir. It's our problem not hers."

"What?" He methodically moved his tray aside and did the same with hers. "I know my knees are shot, and all those years working with explosives might have messed with my hearing, but did you just say _our problem_?"

"Yes." Sam folded her hands in her lap.

"As in you and me?" he gestured between them.

She nodded, but avoided his gaze.

Jack shifted closer. "Ya sure?"

"Not really. Um, I think so." Her voice trembled.

"Coz, once we take it out of that room, it might not be so easy to shove back inside. I mean it's pretty cluttered in there and . . ."

"Please, Jack?"

"Please what?" There was a sardonic snip to his words. Jack was flexing his muscles. She didn't blame him.

"I'd like to take it out of the room and off the record." Especially about Kerry. Sam needed to know if there was the slightest possibility that she still had a shot with him.

"No holds barred," he ground out. "Clear the air so to speak. Including your boyfriend, whatshisname?"

"Yes, including Pete." She looked hopeful. "I mean we are alone here, no saving the world intrusions."

"Yeah, the thought crossed the windmills of my mind more than once since you called me."

"Oh." Sam looked at him. "Sooo how's Kerry Johnson?" she blurted then died a thousand deaths.

"Excuse me?" His dark brows hiked into his hairline.

"Oh, don't play dumb. You might think you're sneaking around, but the entire base knows you're seeing her."

"Crap."

Her heart twisted. "Then it's true?"

"The only truth is that there are no secrets from the SGC grapevine. We dated twice. End of story." His hands danced in the air, before he forced them to his lap.

"Oh, ple--ez. I see how she looks at you and how you admire her ass when she walks away."

"Me and every heterosexual male I know." He rolled his eyes. "But that's all, Sam."

"So those secret meetings behind closed doors?"

"Conferences with Pentagon butt-holes and President Hayes, who's not a butt hole."

"Really?"

"Did you ever ask?" his tone was accusatory.

"Err, no. It was none of my business." She chewed her lower lip.

Jack laughed. "Talk about a contradiction."

"This isn't funny!" She fumed.

"It is to me. You, Samantha Carter, are green-eyed monster jealous."

"I am not jealous. Just curious and worried that well, she's using you."

"Oh, she wants to use me. Talk about an ego stroke. I mean she's well, one bitching mama!" He winked.

Sam wanted to hit him, wanted to slap that smug smirk off his kissable mouth.

"And were I a smarter man, I'd take advantage of her offer."

"She offered herself!" Sam yelled.

Jack stuck fingers in his ringing ears and shook his head as if it hurt. "Yeah, several times, actually just a few hours ago." He pointed to his telephone.

"Argh!" Sam drew a pillow up over her face.

"Hey, I didn't sleep with her. We never made it past first base, because I didn't want her that way. There's only one woman I want to make love with and she's right here." He smiled softly, tugging the pillow off her.

"Oh, man. . ." Sam shut her eyes in humiliation.

"What?" He cradled her face with warm calloused hands.

"I assumed." She shut her eyes and relished his touch.

"Been tons of false assumptions." He drew her to him. "Lots of tap dancing around the issue."

"Guess so."

"Yeah, well, I never did dance well."

"Jack?"

"Um, give me a few, huh?" He sprung to his feet, collected the plates of food and carried them into the kitchen. Sam took up the trays and put them in the hallway closet. Then she stood in the archway of the kitchen and watched Jack load the dishwasher. She knew better than to speak or help. He was collecting his thoughts, trying to prepare what he wanted to say. He retrieved a beer, blew out the candle on the work center, flipped the beer bottle's lid into the wastebasket and returned to the living room. Sam followed at a safe distance. He'd yet to look at her and she was getting worried.

Sam sat on the sofa and waited. Jack paced before the fireplace and then plopped beside her. He extended his long legs and propped his large feet on the coffee table. Sam noticed he had a hole in the bottom of his left black sock and smiled to herself. He then took a drag from his beer and rested the bottle between his muscular thighs.

"You aren't planning to run away are you?" she blathered with a smirk.

"Oh, fer crying out loud!" Jack scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a blustered groan.

"What?" she tensed.

"I'd rather face a dozen armed Goa'uld then talk feelings."

"Man, now he tells me," she said with a mischievous smile.

"So not funny," he muttered behind splayed hands. "I've got piles of soiled laundry, Sam. You do understand my marriage to Sara was doomed long before Charlie died coz I can't talk emotional crap?"

"Yes. But if you think you're getting rid of me because of your silent, ignore her and she'll go away mindset, you're dead wrong. I'm here for the long haul." She firmly withdrew his hands from his tension drawn face and held them in hers, caressing the back of his hands with her thumbs.

Jack opened his eyes. "You're still here!"

"Yeah sure yabetcha. And if you hadn't notice I'm a long suffering, patient woman, Jack O'Neill. And by the look of that storm out there you can take as much time as needed to express yourself. I'm not going anywhere you aren't."

"Promise?" He waggled a brow with his patented lopsided smile.

"Promise." She drew his left arm around her shoulders, curled into him and leaned her chin against his fist.

"Sweet." He set down the beer and held her so tight, she feared she'd break. His free hand caressed her back, waist and hip. Eventually, his erratic heart rate slowed to an even keel. If he didn't talk soon, she'd fall asleep. She suspected that was his plan B.

"Alrighty then. Samantha Carter, I've never stopped caring about you . . . more than I'm suppose to. I am beyond hopeless, coz I'm hopelessly in love with you." His fingertips brushed the bangs from her eyes.

Sam looked up and saw what he'd successfully managed to conceal all these years. Passion, love, trust and desire smiled back at her.

"Wow!" Her heart thudded against her ribs. "You—you love me?"

"Excuse me. Ms. National Treasure didn't know?"

"Well, I hoped. But the last few years you pulled back, stopped flirting, coming to my lab for no reason, and haven't invited me to the cabin in eons."

"Because I thought that's what you wanted. And why I told you to get a life, which you obviously did." He cocked his silver head and looked like . . . Charlie. Sam's heart felt as if it'd burst.

"I don't understand." She tentatively touched his face, feeling the stubble of a day's growth beneath her fingertips. Although he shaved twice a day, there was always a blue shadow on his rugged face.

Jack leaned into her and kissed her cheek. "I'm no young buck, Sam."

"Our age difference has never been an issue, Jack."

"Maybe not for you." He shut his eyes and blew out his mouth. "Thirteen plus years aside, what if you don't like what I have to say?" he asked with a bitter tone. "What if you don't live long enough to hear me out?"

"Jack!"

"I'm just saying. . ."

"Don't worry, I'll live. After all, I'm the one who insisted we leave _us_ in the room."

"Yeah and I was dumb enough to agree."

"We had no choice." She argued.

"Oh, we had lots of choices, Samantha. You chose to lock it up and toss the key. I chose to see you happy. And I certainly didn't want to harm your career." She met his candid expression. "Still don't."

"I know and I appreciate all that you've done. First Major and now Lieutenant Colonel."

"Hold on there, Colonel! You earned those promotions. Your unselfish heroism and genius brains haven't a thing to do with this old general."

She opened her mouth to protest, but his firm fingers pressed against her lips.

"Sam, I'm just the lucky S.O.B. who's had the privilege to recognize your potential and push the paperwork through the Pentagon. Now how about we get back to us?"

She nodded and he lowered his hand from her lips.

"So, if you still care about me why are you engaged to Pete?"

"We're not engaged," she said in a hushed voice.

"Hello?"

"After you and I talked I told Pete I needed more time. After all, it's been a whirlwind courtship. Even he agreed that he's pushing things too fast. Besides, Cass doesn't like him and then there's my job, well—"

Jack held up a hand. "Now I'm totally confused. That happened months back." His deep voice pitched. "And I assumed after our talk that you'd said yes to the lucky guy."

"You expected me to say yes after you made it clear you didn't approve?"

"I don't think the subject of my blessings ever came up. Besides, what does my approval have to do with your happiness?" He stood and stared at her.

" Everything, Jack." Sam left the sofa to stand beside him. "Everything," she said softer, touching his cheek.

"Massive case of perplexity." He tapped his forehead with his knuckles. "Then why are you still with _him_?"

"I'm not with him. Not the way you think." Chagrin warmed her skin. "Jack, I haven't been intimate with Pete since before he proposed."

Jack's befuddled expression was replaced by a stupid grin that reached his golden brown eyes. "Oy! Am I smiling like an idiot?"

"Yes," she stifled a laugh.

"Cool." He regained his composure and urged her with a hand gesture. "Please elucidate?"

"Elucidate?"

"Hey," he shrugged. "I have been known to use words with more than two syllables upon occasion."

Sam giggled then turned serious. "We broke up twice, but I was insecure and took him back. Last week he bought a house in the Springs."

"That's good right?" He scratched his lower back and shifted on his stocking feet.

"Without my knowledge."

"Not good. What knucklehead would buy a house without letting you be a part of the decision making? There's so much to consider, architectural design for one. I know you like the English Tudor style, me too. Someday, I plan to overhaul this place, put on a second story, add some stone and stucco. . . ." He directed traffic. "Oh, and then there's property taxes, lot size, and location is vital. The house should be near a park, even better a grade school within walking distance. Actually," he glanced around them, "Jefferson Elementary is just two blocks up the road." He made a face. "Did I mention location?"

"Yes," Sam grinned at his ramblings. "You did."

"What else did the dim-wit do?"

"Um, the list is long and not worth mentioning. But last week Mark told me Pete's seeing his ex-wife on the sly. Pete denies it of course, but I know the signs." She recalled the used condom she'd found in his car.

"And you were going to Denver, why?" He donned that deer caught in the headlights look. Confusion personified.

"Pathetic, I know. I can blow up a sun, but can't manage my personal life."

"I'm so not touching that one." Jack raised a hand in mock self-defense.

"You're a wise man, Jack O'Neill." A brief smile tilted her lips.

"Nope. But you're an excellent marksman and have very sharp teeth." He shook his right hand.

Sam brightened at his lame humor. One more reason she loved Jack O'Neill.

"And had I been brighter, I wouldn't have encouraged you to see other men. I should have said something that day on the elevator. . ."

"Jack, when I said it wasn't serious then, it wasn't. I'd wanted you to stop me."

"I can't read your mind, woman."

"Well, you could the last time you turned Ancient."

"You mean when we were in the engine room on the Al'kesh?"

"Yes. You knew how I felt, what I was trying to tell you."

"See, I don't remember that." He scratched his head.

Sam leaned closer. "You kissed me, Jack."

"I did?" His mouth hung ajar.

"Right after you resigned you kissed me and I kissed you back."

"You should have sent me a memo." He whined.

"Sorry, but I thought you remembered." She blushed and looked away.

"So anything else I forgot?" He placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted it until their gazes met. "I mean like did we make wild passionate love or. . ."

"No. We kissed, held each other and . . ."

"What?" he drew her to him.

"Said we loved each other, always had. . ."

"And you didn't tell me this why?" he sounded peeved.

"Oh, I tried several times, but," Sam looked away, "when you didn't acknowledge anything personal between us, I thought you decided to move on, to forget." She sniffed.

"Oh, believe me, Samantha, if I had remembered I wouldn't forget or dismiss anything that happened between us. What I don't understand is why you still planned to spend Christmas with Pete?"

"I didn't. I mean yes, but I was going to break it off with him face-to-face."

"Merry Christmas, there's the door, chump," Jack mumbled.

"Jack, I owed him that much."

"Not if he was cheating on you! Why if that asshole were here I'd make sure he was singing soprano."

"Yo . .u wo. . .uld?" Sam stuttered with a look of disbelief.

"Crap, Sam." He looked intensely into her questioning eyes. "I may not be the best catch in the sea, but I am faithful. I've seen too many relationships and marriages ruined by the military to tolerate cheating on the person you love. Any man who'd cheat on you never deserved you in the first place." He brushed a kiss across her cheek.

Sam trembled. "Then, I don't deserve you."

"Huh?"

"I couldn't wait for us, Jack. I gave myself to another man."

"Time out!" He held up a hand. "I'd be a liar if I said you being with Shanahan didn't hurt. It did. But," he clutched her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "I practically pushed you into his arms. Heck, if it hadn't been him, it'd have been someone else. Why when that Ancient Orlin had been living with you, I was torn between jealousy and the sick hope that you two. . ."

"You're not serious?" Sam's eyes grew the size of saucers.

"You telling me nothing happened?" He gave a dubious look.

"Only if you consider mind-melding as physical sex those Ancients have no imaginations. Once I realized that the mind-meld was the Ancient's version of making love, I made Orlin stop. I was torked when he admitted what he had done."

"But you cared about him."

"Oh, I did. I also cared about Martouf and Narim. I was flattered by their attention and that they saw me as more than an Air Force officer or scientist. But I never loved them, Jack."

"Ah."

"Just ah?" she got in his face.

"I mean ah as in that's a good ah." He winced.

"That's better." She smiled. "Now I need to know something."

"Shoot. Just no Zats." He smirked.

"If tonight hadn't happened would you have let me marry Pete?"

"That's a loaded gun, Carter."

"Jack?" she pleaded.

"Yes." He dragged a wide splayed hand through his unruly short hair and exhaled. "No. I mean, if he was what you wanted I'd have walked away, but not without a fight. I would have talked to you just like we're doing now."

Sam's heart raced at his admission.

"I've danced around the issue way too long. But before you walked down that isle, I would have confessed that I still love you and after that well, Que Sera Sera." He looked at her apprehensively.

Sam tried to speak, Words eluded her.

"I do love you, Samantha. I've loved you since that first day you waltzed into the S.G.C. conference room firing off enough female hormones to sink a Goa'uld mother ship."

Sam rolled her eyes. "And I thought you were the most arrogant handsomest S.O.B. I'd ever laid eyes upon."

"I was…still am," he said with his bite me tone of voice.

"Jack!"

"Fine." His inflection softened, "Although, I've yet to understand the handsome part."

"Because you're hot." She emphasized with a suggestive wink.

"Ya don't say?" He donned his self-effacing expression.

"I do."

"That's just weird." He crunched his face as if with mass confusion. Sam loved his humility or ignorance of how good looking he was.

"Um, back to your feelings." She prompted.

"Oh, that." he cleared his throat and fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater. "Being a guy I admit I lusted for you first, but the moment you challenged me to arm wrestle I was ruined for all other women. Heck, I'd toppled head over heels in love with you. And when I said, 'Oh, I adore you already,' I meant it."

"Wow, quite a mouthful."

"Too much?" he asked seriously.

"No. Have you any idea how long I've waited to hear even half those syllables pass your lips?"

"Oh, I've a good idea." He pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry, Samantha."

"Don't be. Now hear me out, General Jonathon James O'Neill. I have loved you since the first moment we met. But we can't do this . . ." She broke down. "I mean nothing has changed. We're still stuck in the same chain of command."

"Shush! I hate when you cry, babe. I feel helpless. . ." He patted his pockets for a kerchief then brushed his lips across her tears stained cheek. "And I don't regret one second of the past eight years, especially those spent with you at my side, Carter. I'd never make you give up your career and that still stands."

"You really are my safe bet." She kissed his rough jaw.

"Sure am and always will be." He winked. "And don't worry, we'll figure out a way for us to be together, I promise. In fact, I've already submitted my IOU list to the President."

"You did?"

"Yeah. But I'm not sharing until I hear from Hammond."

"Jack?" she whined.

"Please, Sam, trust me?"

"I always have."

"Cool. There'll be some serious adjustments for us, but we will be together soon."

"You're transferring?" she prodded.

"Carter," he said in his don't push it tone.

"Sorry."

"Forgiven. Now let's enjoy what we have."

Sam nodded and nestled her head against his chest. "Jack, do you remember that night at the Baxter's anniversary party?"

"Do pigs fly?"

"Actually no."

"Wrong example. Yeah, I remember how hot you looked. Not that you're not hot now. . ." He smiled against her brow.

"And what you said when we danced?"

"Sure."

"And what you said before you left?"

"Um, about that. . . I lied through my teeth ya know. I was a scumbag."

"Yes you were. And I have a stronger list of nouns for your crude behavior."

"Oy!" He glanced down. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Don't be. I regret that it took this long for us to get here but the experience reinforced how much I love you, Jack, and that I could not be truly happy with anyone else. No one else understands me or let's me be who I am. You're always building me up, encouraging me. You've never once tried to change me and for that I'm grateful."

"Hey, I beg to differ. I lost track how many times I've attempted to shut you up, especially when you start on your techno-babble."

Sam pinched his forearm.

"Ouch!" He rubbed his bruise.

"Jack, you love my techno-babble and despite your dense act, you understand most of what I say."

"Yeah, well, let's not advertise. I do have a cantankerous, scarier than a Wraith, dumber than a rock reputation to uphold. Don't want those green-gilled recruits to know I've gone soft."

Sam giggled. "No, sir. Um, one more question."

"Just one?" He waggled his brows.

"Well, several but I'm hoping we have time to discuss a lot of things."

"Ditto." His dimples tucked deep along side his mouth.

"That time when you were invisible?" She glanced up from beneath her lashes.

"I was invisible?"

Sam smacked him.

"Ow!" he rubbed his shoulder. "I believe this qualifies as insubordination?"

"I'm serious." She pouted.

"Me too. You've got one nasty right pinch and punch, Carter." He continued to baby his shoulder and arm. "You were asking?"

"Other than that time in the S.G.C. shower room, um, did you ever. . ."

"Spy on you?"

She nodded.

"That would depend upon what you do to me?"

"Ja—ack?" she groused.

"Fine. Actually, I um," he looked at the fireplace, "Should stoke the fire."

"Don't turn chicken-shit now, sir." She held onto his left arm.

"Um, only if you don't _sir_ me," he stubbornly stated.

"Fine. I'm waiting, Jack."

"Well, if you recall we were dealing with an invisible Nirrti, who vowed to abduct you so she could suck out your valuable brain."

"Hard to forget something so personal." Sam shuddered.

"So, when I wasn't under Hammond's thumb, I was with you. Actually, that's why I followed you into the locker room."

"Oh, no! You mean you weren't in there before me?"

"Nope." He winked. "I was your invisible shadow, Sam. I even rode home in your car every night."

"Oh, brother. So when I thought something died in my car. . ."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have eaten those pork 'n beans in the commissary." He apologized.

Sam crinkled her nose. "And the left over roast beef that disappeared from my refrigerator?"

"Yup."

"And the cheesecake?"

"Guilty."

"That means you were in my house and bedroom when I," she flushed as she recalled pleasuring herself while fantasizing they were making love, that included calling out his name when she climaxed.

"Yup. And might I add it took all my willpower not to jump you right there and then."

Sam raised her hand to slug him, but he caught her wrist and drew her hard against him. "Samantha, watching you was the most beautiful experience of my life. To know you wanted to be with me. . . " his deep voice thickened and he looked away.

Sam threw herself into his arms and wept. "It's always been you. Every second since the first time you shoved me through the Stargate. Every time you looked at me whether smiling or angry, I loved you. What I don't understand is um, when you were invisible, the day you caught Nirrti in my lab, how'd you know?"

Jack nuzzled her neck and answered, "Because what no one else knew, not even Nirrti was that downloading that Ancient knowledge the first time affected my sight. I can see a person's aura, even if they were invisible. Still can."

"You mean?"

"Yeah, yours is a soft blue with pink sparkly thingies." He wiggled his fingers in the air.

"Odd." She commented.

"Yeah, tell me about it. So," he glanced down, "Any true confessions from your end?"

"Mm, several, but," she pressed a nail to her lips.

"Carter, don't hold out on me."

She exhaled. "Okay, a few months back when I saw your letter of resignation."

"How come I think I'm not going to like this?"

"I um, well, noticed a personal letter on your p.c."

"Do'h!"

"Addressed to me."

"Crap!"

"Not necessarily." She smiled.

"You-you read it?" he coughed into his hand.

"No. Just the first paragraph about my being dead. . ." she held onto him. "I was afraid you were going to resign, leave me behind."

"Samantha," he scrubbed his hand along her shoulders, "I planned to resign coz I didn't possess the metal to fill Hammond's boots and thought if I retired, I might have a chance to . . ."

"Win me?"

"Yeah."

"General Jack O'Neill, you never lost me."

"Now she tells me." He hugged her then turned serious. "We still have to deal with your boyfriend."

"No. I'll call him once the phones are operational. You're right he doesn't deserve to be told face-to-face."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. So um, now what, flyboy?" she looked shyly at him.

"This." He tenderly pressed his warm sensuous mouth to hers. This kiss that she'd spent nights imagining and longing for had come to pass. Sam moved against him and Jack drew her soft, slender frame into his muscular lean frame. Their kiss began chaste but when Jack's tongue flickered tentatively across her lips, Sam's parted with wanton invitation. Her memory flashed back to when she'd had the Broca virus and attacked him in the locker room. They had tongue-dueled but, this wasn't only mutual lust, it was a fervent fire of love that seared her veins with a need she'd never felt for anyone else. Jack O'Neill was the only man she ever loved.

Samantha Carter was home.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Sam wasn't sure when they came up for air or found herself staring at the ring box Jack handed to her. Still in his arms, guilt warmed her cheeks.

"Um, Jack, I've a confession."

"No more confessions. You do know what this is, right?"

"Oh, yeah and that's why I must confess." She nibbled her lips.

"Oh, fer cryin' out loud. Fine. Confess."

"I saw the ring and thought it was for Kerry."

"Oh." He shrugged.

"Just oh?" She sat up and rearranged the over sized sweater that he'd been intent on removing.

"It's about fricking time, Carter."

"Carter?" she felt confused. Something that Jack O'Neill did a lot to her.

"Sam, whether I call you Carter, Colonel, Sam or Samantha my feelings for you don't change. And this," he held out the ring box, "was never meant for anyone else but you."

"Now, I'm confused?"

"The ring's been in my possession for years. It typically goes where I go. And whenever I knew you'd be here I made sure it was somewhere you might come across it. You were just too proper to snoop in my drawers."

Sam laughed. "Nope. I snooped several times but only found Homer Simpson boxers."

"Not funny."

"I thought so." She put out her left hand and wiggled it at him.

"What?" He delivered his dense look.

"You're supposed to put the ring on my finger, silly."

"No, first I," he hunkered down onto his knees, "Do this. Ouch! Then I," he took her left hand and with his boyish charm asked, "Samantha Carter, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes!" She watched him ease the ring onto her finger. It was perfect fit. Sam lowered to Jack's crouched level and met his fat grin. "Hey, aren't you going to kiss me?"

"Thinking."

"Then think about this, flyboy." Sam captured his face and kissed him stupid.

"Sweet," he murmured against her moist thirsty lips and drew her down onto the rug. "But, um, until we're out of the same chain of command we can't . . ." he winced.

"I know, General. Besides you're not getting me that easily?"

"I'm not?" he pouted.

'Nope. I want our wedding night to be our first time together."

"That could be a long while." He whined.

"So we implement plan B." She planted kisses along his jaw and neck.

"Plan B, you say?" he waggled his brows as her exploring hands slipped beneath his sweater and sent his senses awry.

"Yes, sir. We are under an alien influence and make out like hormonal teenagers which means you'll get to second base in no time flat."

"Excellent!" he laughed, tickling her softly.

"Lips, Jack, kiss my lips," she seductively pressed against him.

"Nice." He gazed lovingly at the beautiful woman in his arms and concluded he was the luckiest man in the world. No, wait. Luck hadn't a dang thing to do with winning the heart of Samantha Carter. This was a miracle of faith. Faith not only moved mountains, it moved hearts. And faith would keep them together no matter what the Goa'uld or Replicators threw their way.

Jack silently spoke with the Keeper of the Stars. _'After all these years, I have what I wanted for Christmas. Thanks, Lord, and by the way, happy birthday.' _

"Now, Carter, about the location of that mole. . ."

Sam giggled.

And the rest is unrecorded history.

THE END


End file.
